


In Memoriam

by Greysgate



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Daniel gets a medal, Gargoyles - Freeform, Gen, Ninja Daniel, Warrior!Daniel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 20:46:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 94,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15032948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greysgate/pseuds/Greysgate
Summary: It's Teal'c's birthday, and the team celebrates him in their own way. Sam and Jack are busy preparing for a secret surprise for Daniel, who seems to be struggling with some after-effects of ascension. His condition takes a turn for the worst, and the team goes to another planet in search of a cure for whatever is driving Daniel to prowl Colorado Springs at night as The Man in Black, fighting crimes and saving lives.





	1. A Day in the Life of Teal'c: Between Two Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Michael Shanks’ challenge to the fan community in the early days when he was visiting conventions. He started it with an off-the-cuff performance of Daniel as a ninja, then he asked the fans to write about it. Most who did (in the spirit of his comedy routine) chose to make their stories humorous.   
> I took him seriously, and this is the result.  
> One of my favorite story vehicles is to cover a day in the life of different characters (without repeating large chunks of text) from each of their points of view, so the first half of this story does that, celebrating Teal’c’s birthday as a team. The second part of the story, Night Watch, rolls them all in together, each one carrying part of the narrative along to the end of the tale.  
> Lastly, I warred with my conscience a lot before posting this here, because I formally signed over the copyright to Mr. Shanks in person at a convention, along with an illustrated hardbound copy of the story as a souvenir. Most of the websites where I had this story posted (also covered in the rights statement) are gone except one, which prompted me to post it one more time. I just don’t want this story to be lost in the Great Beyond that is the Internet. If Mr. Shanks wants it taken down, I’ll be happy to do that, but until then…   
> I wrote this story with love for these characters and this show. May you all enjoy this little view into my heart.

Before opening his eyes, Teal’c was aware of his body. He lay on his back on the narrow bed, barely big enough for his large frame, and sighed. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and gracefully moved into an upright position. His back and shoulder muscles were tight, and he lifted one hand to knead what he could reach with his fingers. 

He glanced disdainfully at the mattress, covered in rough regulation cotton sheets. It was a warrior’s bed and he would never complain about it, but he hated that standard issue military cot. It was uncomfortable and left him feeling stiff and sore after sleeping in it.

Worse still, he hated sleeping.

Since losing his symbiote, he had been forced to take up the practice since _kel’no’reem_ no longer refreshed him as it once did. He continued to meditate, of course, but now it was a matter of mental discipline rather than survival. 

Rising from the bed, he spread the covers neatly over it as O’Neill had shown him, making perfect creases and folds, stretching the linens tight enough to bounce a coin. Teal’c had been impressed by O’Neill’s efficiency when he had demonstrated the technique, and gave the bed a final inspection.  

That done, he stopped briefly in his private lavatory. He gathered up the newspapers he had been reading the previous evening, his gaze falling on the headlines about a subject that had captivated him for weeks.  

The story was an intriguing one, featuring an enigmatic warrior who had been appearing during the commission of crimes in the city, subduing the criminals and leaving them for the police to collect after he disappeared.

It seemed that the Tau’ri believed they had a fictional superhero come to life in their midst, and much was being made of his heroics in the local press.

Teal’c was following the story avidly and wondered what news of the Man in Black might appear that day. 

When he finished his morning routine in his room, he took the pass card to his quarters and headed down the hall to SG-1’s private locker room.

Snagging a clean towel from the linen supply, he turned right into the shower facility, strolling around the privacy wall into the men’s section. Draping his towel over a nearby bar, he stripped off his sweats, dropped them into the hamper marked with his name, and stepped into the nearest shower.

He turned on the hot water three-quarters of a turn and stood leaning against the cool tile with his palms, waiting for the water to heat up. 

Looking down at himself, he noticed that the flaps of his pouch were beginning to adhere to each other. In time, DoctorFraiser had told him, the only proof that he had ever been Jaffa would be the X-shaped scar on his abdomen and the golden tattoo on his forehead. He tried not to think about the fact that he no longer carried a symbiote, but the knowledge was always there, in the back of his mind.  

He felt it when he went to lift something heavy and no longer had his former strength. He remembered when he sat down to meditate, knowing that he could no longer find that inner landscape in the depths of _kel’no’reem._ Injuries were another telltale sign, taking far longer to heal than what past experience told him was an appropriate length of time, learned over the century-plus that he had been a Jaffa.  

Most devastating of all was the disgusting weakness of illness.

Twice now missions had been scrubbed because he had been stricken with some simple virus. He’d tried not to let anyone know when he fell ill, but DoctorFraiser’s frequent and thorough checks of all the teams before and after missions would always turn up any shade of less than perfect health. 

Although he felt weaker physically and had many adjustments to make in this new life without a symbiote, he was content with his place at the SGC. He enjoyed work with his team and in the training he did with new recruits.

His friendship with DanielJackson had brought a new dimension to his life, a sense of kinship he had felt with few people, even among the Jaffa.

Keeping busy was almost a necessity now, but in quiet, private moments of routine like this, Teal’c’s thoughts always strayed back to what he was _not_ , trying to make some sense of what he now _was_. 

The steam began to curl up from the spray and he nudged the cold water tap one-quarter turn to the precise setting he liked best, stepping under the shower head.

He turned his back to it, letting the hot water spray against his stiff neck and shoulders.

Teal’c closed his eyes, enjoying the heat, feeling his muscles begin to relax. 

Today was his one hundred and fifth birthday.

His friends had told him they wanted to do something special to celebrate this year, but were vague about what they intended. He had seen evidence of many birthday parties on television and occasionally in the commissary. Much of the merry-making had to do with colorful paper cones worn on the head, rich pastry adorned with candles, one torch burning for each year of the celebrant’s life. 

O’Neill had made many jokes about the number of candles that would be needed for Teal’c’s cake, most having to do with the size of the cake, the measured brightness of the combined candlepower, or the safety hazards of uncontained bonfires.

The Colonel seemed to enjoy making such remarks, so Teal’c allowed him that pleasure without so much as a raised eyebrow in the man’s direction.

Still, it pleased Teal’c that his teammates wished to mark this date with him, to celebrate each other and the friendship they shared. 

He smiled as he finished up his shower, shut off the water and retrieved his towel.

His Tau’ri teammates were interesting people, he thought. From the first moment O’Neill challenged him in Apophis’ dungeon, he knew what sort of man the Colonel was. All fire and steel when called to action; all warmth and good humor when at rest. He gave and demanded respect, and was determined to make Teal’c his “running buddy.”  

Teal’c hadn’t understood that term at first. He and O’Neill did sometimes lift weights together and do combat training, but they never ran together because Teal’c was much faster and O’Neill could not keep up. Teal’c did that exercise on his own, usually in the evenings as the day was winding down. O’Neill did his running in the neighborhood where he lived, though Teal’c suspected the Colonel had cut down much of that due to the continued deterioration of his knees. It was enough that he could run to the Stargate when necessary, and that he kept in good physical condition to fit the demands of a first contact team. 

“Running buddy,” he said aloud, wrapping his damp towel around his waist and heading for the locker room to fetch his fatigues.  

O’Neill had explained that the term meant ‘someone you hang with to have fun.’

They did that, sometimes.

In the last year or so, there had been fewer fishing trips and more Jell-O wrestling nights. It seemed that O’Neill needed something to keep his mind occupied, rather than sitting in the peace and quiet of rural Minnesota dangling an empty hook in the water of his stagnant pond.

Such inactivity gave rise to introspection, and O’Neill wanted none of that lately.

Teal’c understood why. 

Though there had been no memorial for DanielJackson following his ascension, each of them had, in their own way, engineered personal memorials for their lost comrade. Having him back now was reason enough to celebrate, and in Teal’c’s mind, that was what he would be doing tonight. The scientist had only been back in human form for a few months, and it was a pleasure to be able to look upon his face again. 

Teal’c laced up his boots and stood, heading for the elevator that would take him up three floors to the commissary.

The team was meeting for breakfast and, no doubt, to wish him a happy birthday, though he had told them many times that such attention to the date was unnecessary on his behalf.

MajorCarter had simply told him that they celebrated the privilege of his friendship, and that they had another year at his side. 

She was an affectionate and beautiful woman, brilliant and stubborn, and a great warrior all at once.

He was proud of her, and felt privileged to fight at her side.

Beneath all that, however, was a heart that felt deeply for those she trusted with her love. 

He smiled, grateful to be among those fortunate few.  

Stopping at the elevator, he punched the button and waited for the car to arrive, hands clasped lightly behind his back.

When the doors slid open he stepped inside, turned to face the control panel and felt a moment’s surprise as he noticed DanielJackson a few paces from the door, about to join him.

He hadn’t heard the man approaching, hadn’t felt the usual awareness of someone coming up behind him that his century of training had taught him. 

Somehow, the scientist had sneaked up on him without even trying. 

“Morning, Teal’c,” he said with a weary smile, his eyes hidden by his prescription sunglasses. “Happy birthday.” 

Teal’c inclined his head. “Greetings, DanielJackson. You are awake early today.” 

Daniel reached for the button numbered 22 and winced, one hand automatically going to his side and then dropping self-consciously. 

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep last night.” He made a face and straightened, shrugging his shoulders, rolling his head around and rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve been up since about five.” 

The car began to move and Teal’c faced the doors. “You have not been sleeping well. Perhaps you should mention this to DoctorFraiser.” 

“Nah. She’d just push sleeping pills at me. I’ll be fine. It’ll pass.” 

“You are wearing sunglasses, yet we are below ground. Are you afflicted with a migraine this morning?” 

The other man nodded. “Medicine hasn’t kicked in yet.” DanielJackson’s voice was soft and tense with pain. 

Teal’c knew the scholar often suffered from those terrible headaches, and that they made him light-sensitive and nauseous.

The Jaffa decided to spare his friend further conversation and allow him time for his medication to take effect.

Silence fell between them as the car continued its upward journey. 

Though he was innately aware of the man beside him in the elevator, Teal’c did not make eye contact or look at him directly.

DanielJackson stood silently, arms clasped around his body, head down in thought.

He was quieter now, Teal’c thought, since his return to the mortal plane. Quieter in the sense that there seemed to be less noise beneath the man’s surface, though he _did_ tend to chatter less as well.  

What disturbed Teal’c most was the sense of quiet desperation he had felt lately whenever DanielJackson was near.

He jumped at small unexpected noises, was distracted in briefings, and never seemed rested any more. The strain was beginning to show in his face and posture, Teal’c mused as they strolled down the corridor side by side on the way to the commissary.

He let DanielJackson go ahead of him in the food line, ignoring what the scientist put on his tray in favor of a subtle study of his demeanor instead.  

For almost a month now, DanielJackson had been avoiding their regular meditation sessions in the evenings. What once calmed him now seemed only to agitate him, and whenever Teal’c extended a formal invitation DanielJackson appeared alarmed. Then his gaze would slide guiltily away and he would mumble some excuse to be elsewhere. It was troubling. 

“DanielJackson, are you angry with me?” Teal’c asked gently as they set their trays down on a table surrounded by four chairs.

The two men sat across from each other, rather than side by side.

Teal’c kept his eyes downcast on his plate rather than pin his friend with a direct gaze. 

“No. Why do you ask?” DanielJackson tore open a syrup packet and poured the gooey brown stuff all over his pancakes. He reached for a second syrup packet and then a third without looking up. 

“You are avoiding my company in the evenings.” 

The scientist looked distinctly uncomfortable for a moment, as if wrestling with himself for the proper words.

 “It’s not you, Teal’c, I promise. It’s _me_. Something I need to work out.” He sighed and seemed to wilt slightly, meeting his friend’s gaze hopefully. “I just need to keep busy, keep my mind occupied so I don’t…” He shrugged. “I can’t explain it.” 

“This difficulty… Is this what prevents you from sleeping properly?” 

“Yeah. I need to do something about it because what I’ve tried already isn’t really working like I thought it would.”

He picked up his fork, carved off a piece of pancake and stared at it, watching the syrup drip off the edge.

“I just don’t know what else to try.”

He stuffed the morsel into his mouth and cast his gaze back on the stack of flapjacks as he chewed. 

“If there is any way I can assist you…” Teal’c offered, still studying the man. 

DanielJackson swallowed. “Thanks, but I don’t think there is. I have to handle this myself. Somehow.” 

It seemed unnatural for the human to ingest his favorite breakfast without the attendant pleasure noises and facial expressions that always went with the first bite.

Teal’c missed that.

He felt something was truly troubling the man and he was beginning to show physical signs of the stress. Teal’c could see the dark smudges under his eyes, half-hidden beneath the sunglasses.

DanielJackson looked more than tired and worn.

He looked… anxious. 

“You should speak with DoctorFraiser,” Teal’c insisted. “Perhaps she may find the answer to your difficulty that is not in the form of medication.” 

DanielJackson hunched over his plate. “If I don’t find an answer on my own soon, I will. I promise. Okay?” He made reluctant eye contact through the dark haze of his lenses. 

Teal’c nodded in agreement. 

An ear-splitting song sounded from the commissary doorway and both men turned to look.

Colonel O’Neill had just made his entrance, spied Teal’c, and burst into a loud, grating, off-key version of the Tau’ri birthday tune.

The entire room sat in stunned silence for a moment and then other voices joined in from all over, no doubt trying to drown the Colonel out. 

“Stand up. Take a bow!” DanielJackson urged, smiling now. He also began to sing. 

Reluctantly, Teal’c got to his feet, surveying everyone in the room with what he hoped was an intimidating glare. He was having a hard time not smiling and pulled his mouth down into an even more severe frown. Everywhere he looked voices fell silent and people turned back to their meals.

All except O’Neill and DanielJackson.

The scientist, at least, could carry a tune. 

The Colonel grinned as he finished up. “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, Birthday Boy,” he called and headed for the chow line to get his breakfast.

As O’Neill sat down with them, he eyed the scholar beside him. “Headache or hangover?” 

“DanielJackson has a migraine,” Teal’c announced.

His young human friend just grunted in acknowledgment. 

MajorCarter joined the trio at the table moments after O’Neill sat down with his tray.

“Happy birthday, Teal’c!” she announced happily. “Boy, is today gonna be busy! And tonight-did we decide on where we were going?” She directed that question to her commanding officer. 

“Jack Quinn’s Irish Ale House and Pub,” O’Neill answered brightly. “Can’t _wait_ for that Drunken Angus ribeye. I’m pickin’ up the tab, kids. My treat, in honor of the big guy’s big day.” 

MajorCarter looked startled. “Was that _your_ choice or Teal’c’s? Remember whose birthday it is, sir.” 

“It was my choice,” Teal’c assured her. “DanielJackson has described a traditional dish from a place called Ireland. I intend to sample Bangers and Mash this evening at JackQuinn’s.”

He gave her a slight nod of approval for her quickness in ensuring his happiness in the choice of restaurant. 

His stomach reminded him of the meal he had piled on his plate and settled quietly into satisfying his hunger while the others -- mostly O’Neill -- talked about the upcoming day.  

When he finished, Teal’c disposed of the remains in the appropriate container, turned in his tray and empty dishes, and headed for his first assignment of the day, taking the elevator up from the 22nd floor, where the commissary was located, to the 17th.

The room he wanted was a short walk from the lift.

Teal’c greeted SergeantSiler quietly and offered his assistance in setting up the photographic equipment.

“Thanks, Teal’c, but I’ve got it,” SergeantSiler assured him. “Happy birthday. You sure don’t look your age, sir.” 

Understanding that was a Tau’ri compliment, Teal’c gave him a polite nod and stood patiently by until the Sergeant was ready for him.

The 17th floor was still largely undeveloped, most of it set aside for future expansion. This room had been allocated about ten months back as a small studio where SergeantSiler had set up his photography equipment. The photos he had taken over the past ten months were part of a project spearheaded by MajorCarter in the wake of DanielJackson’s ascension.  

A year of planning had been put into the project, most of the time hers. Now, almost all of it had been completed, except for a revision in the roster. She would need help from many to finish on time, and this was among the last of the items needing to be completed.

SergeantSiler had taken individual photos as people were available in their off time, teams when they were on stand-down and not in the infirmary. Taking portraits and team shots of all the SG teams had been a scheduling nightmare, since the Sergeant had never been assured from one day to the next who would be called to emergency duty or come back injured from a mission.

Some had never gotten their portraits made at all, and MajorCarter had had to search elsewhere for photos of those who never came home. 

“Teal’c, are you ready?” SergeantSiler asked, adjusting with one of the umbrella lights. 

“Indeed. Where do you wish me to stand?” Teal’c was dressed in standard SGC attire: black T-shirt and green fatigues.

This was the outfit that all of their pictures that morning would feature first, with wardrobe changes to follow. A clothing rack stood to one side of the stage area with their extra uniforms ready and waiting. Teal’c’s Jaffa armor was waiting for him behind a dressing screen set up in the back corner of the little room for privacy. 

“Have a seat on the stool, please.” SergeantSiler stepped away from the lights and picked up a small hand-held device.

When Teal’c was seated, the Sergeant held the device up in front of his subject’s face and pushed a plunger attached to a long cord. The lights all went off at once, and SergeantSiler checked the meter for proper settings.

“Okay, let’s do a standard military head shot first, and then we’ll do some portrait style poses without the jacket.” 

They were almost finished by the time O’Neill, MajorCarter, and DanielJackson appeared in the doorway.

Seconds later, the scholar excused himself to retrieve his fatigue jacket and O’Neill sidled up to the Sergeant, watching him work.  

“This is the last one in regulation clothes, sir,” SergeantSiler informed him. “We’ll do a couple in the Jaffa armor and that’ll be it for you till we do the team shots. Major, you’re next, so if you’ll please get ready…” 

O’Neill’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he watched Teal’c disappear behind the dressing screen. He bounced on his toes, hands clasped behind his back.

“Hey, T, got a word for ya. I want you to think about this while you’re changing. This is ‘the money shot,’ buddy. The one for all the girls back home.” 

“The girls back home will never see these images, O’Neill,” Teal’c called over the screen as he took off his clothes.

The Jaffa armor was heavy, some of it pliant metal mesh, other pieces stiff and unyielding. The bluish gray metal gleamed in the dim light behind the screen and the feel of it against his skin brought back old memories, most of which he preferred to leave buried; however, this was how he had arrived among the Tau’ri and they wanted a photograph to commemorate what he had been then, in addition to the man he had become when he offered O’Neill his allegiance.

“SergeantSiler, do you wish the helmet on or off?” 

“Off, please, sir,” the photographer answered quickly. “Even when it’s open, it covers too much of your face. Just the rest of the armor will do.” 

Teal’c threw on a dark Chulakian robe over the top, then stepped out from behind the screen and took his place, standing beneath the lights where the stool had been before the Sergeant moved it. This would be a full length shot and SergeantSiler handed him his staff weapon to complete the outfit. Teal’c drew himself up stiffly, proud to be a former First Prime, proud because he had betrayed a false god and was now fighting for his people and for the Tau’ri. 

He glanced at the Colonel.

A grin spread across O’Neill’s face. “Okay, Teal’c. Think about… _Ishta_.” 

The Colonel was a very smart man, Teal’c knew.

The images that flashed through his mind were filled with soft skin, softer lips and long, golden hair.  The thought of the Jaffa priestess brought warm memories of love and tenderness that contrasted wonderfully with the warrior Ishta had been, fighting to save her people from the tyranny of Marduk.

Teal’c smiled, unable to contain it. 

“There we go!” O’Neill crowed. “Bet that one’s tacked up in the nurse’s station before the day’s out.”

He winked, the image of mischief. 

“It better _not_ be!” MajorCarter shot back. She eyed SergeantSiler sternly. “These prints go only to me, right?” 

SergeantSiler’s eyes were twinkling. “Yes, ma’am. For the project.” 

Teal’c was absolutely certain now that there would be extras made of all the prints, handed out to whoever wanted them. 

The Tau’ri, he thought, were strange people. Endearing, but strange. 

He shed the robe and posed for a few more solo pictures in his armor. 

DanielJackson reappeared as the last photograph was taken, looking a little surprised at seeing his teammate in his old Jaffa uniform.

 Teal’c left the hot stage and wandered over to stand with O’Neill and the archaeologist while MajorCarter took her place on the stool beneath the lights, also dressed in black T-shirt and green fatigues. SergeantSiler held the light meter up in front of her and began readjusting the lights to account for her smaller stature and fair complexion. 

Informed that he would need additional changes of clothes, DanielJackson left again for the locker room. 

“Do you think he suspects?” asked Teal’c, his voice in a low, soft rumble. 

“Well, he got the memo about the special presentation tomorrow,” O’Neill returned casually, “but he doesn’t know how big a deal it is. I think we’ve all managed to keep it a secret. Everybody’s kept him off 27 and 28, and the guards won’t let _anybody_ get a peek past the partitions on 11, so we should be good to go.”

He tipped his head back and gave his friend a coolly dangerous gaze. “If I get wind that anybody’s let even a _hint_ slip, they’re dead meat.” 

Teal’c gave him an approving nod and turned to watch as SergeantSiler worked with MajorCarter. O’Neill’s background conversation made her cast incredulous looks in their direction and all of her pleasant mood was caught on film.

Then MajorCarter went to change out of her fatigues and into her Class A’s for the next shot. 

While they waited for her to dress, talk turned to the enigmatic local celebrity, the Colorado Springs ninja, dubbed by the press as the Man in Black. To date, since the man’s first appearance two weeks earlier, he had foiled seven crimes in progress, caught the perpetrators and immobilized them without harm to anyone. When his missions had been completed, he had disappeared into the night accompanied by the sound of a motorcycle engine fading into the darkness. 

Reports said he sometimes carried a sword and kept his face covered with a motorcycle helmet or black ninja-type mask that covered his entire head and showed only his eyes.

Teal’c had been following the story with interest, especially the wildly absurd theories promoted by local tabloids.

Whoever the masked man was, Teal’c heartily approved of his personal campaign against crime. He was saving lives. 

O’Neill gave Teal’c a gentle punch in the shoulder. “So, T, I heard the Ninja was out again last night. Picked up a story on the radio as I was driving in this morning. You heard anything new? ‘Cause I know you keep up with all that.” 

“I have not yet listened to the local news, O’Neill. I will investigate further as my schedule permits.” He gave his C.O. a slight bow, pleased that the Colonel was taking interest. 

“Yeah, well… Ya think a guy like that has a death wish or something? And how the hell does he know where to go?” 

“That is, indeed, the mystery,” Teal’c returned with a slight smile.

Everyone who followed the story was asking that question.

If the police couldn’t predict where a crime was going to happen, how did this lone vigilante manage it? 

DanielJackson returned during the middle of that discussion, his regular glasses now in place on his nose.

He listened intently, apparently unaware of the mysterious local celebrity.

Teal’c was surprised that the scholar had nothing to say about the subject, just shrugged and walked away to hang up his BDUs on the nearby clothing rack.

Teal’c saw the gleam of interest in those blue eyes as DanielJackson listened and made a mental note to take up the subject with him again when they were alone. He was curious about DanielJackson’s opinion of the local hero, though the younger man remained inscrutable on the subject.  

Interestingly enough, O’Neill seemed to disapprove of the man’s heroic acts, questioning his sanity.

That provoked a reaction out of the scholar. His eyes gleamed with a silent challenge, and when O’Neill met his gaze, the Colonel seemed a little startled. DanielJackson’s gaze slid away then, keeping his opinions to himself, and O’Neill straightened a little, believing himself to have won their unspoken battle of wills.

The discussion stopped when the Colonel’s impatience to be done returned and more flashes went off. 

Teal’c thought about that interesting little interchange between the two men as he posed with his team for the group shots. He changed out of his armor and back into fatigues and then civilian clothes for a few more, still thinking about his teammates.

Those two often seemed to have entire conversations composed of body language or simple looks. They could simply call each other’s names and express opinions that only the other could read. It was uncanny how they could communicate like that and still be so vastly different from each other.  

It was also something Teal’c enjoyed watching. 

He stepped out from behind the changing screen with his armor draped over his arm and said goodbye to his comrades and the Sergeant. 

“See ya, T. Don’t forget, 1900 hours,” O’Neill called out as he headed for the door.  

Teal’c went directly to the gym to start his workout.

He started with the Jaffa martial art, _mastaba,_ and the warm-up exercises Master Brata’c had taught him so long ago, letting his mind drift back over his youth.

Those were good days, filled with fierce hope and pride. Experience had tempered youthful passions in this older and wiser man, but now that he had joined the Tau’ri, he often found himself hopeful that one day the Jaffa would know freedom from the slavery and oppression of the Goa’uld; and proud that the team on which he served worked hard to make a difference in that conflict. 

For most of his life, Teal’c had lived in exile, made homeless by Cronus and again later by Apophis. Though he had earned the respect of the Jaffa society on Chulak, he had cast it away at a moment’s notice with the promise of freedom that came through in the person of Colonel O’Neill.

Not once had Teal’c regretted that decision. 

Sometimes it felt as if no progress at all were being made. Then he would remind himself of all those among the System Lords who had fallen before the Tau’ri, more false gods destroyed by SG-1 than any other team in the command.

He was partly responsible for that, and one day they would find a way to neutralize the threat the Goa’uld posed to all who might potentially be their slaves. 

Teal’c attacked the weights, letting his anger fuel him, pushing himself until his arms and legs were trembling with fatigue. He paused to rest, noticing that most of the other occupants of the gymnasium had left, as they always did, when he started his workout. O’Neill had told him it was because they were intimidated, but Teal’c did not understand. He was no longer as strong as he once was and, though he could still lift far more weights than any other man at the SGC, he saw no reason for the other men to leave. 

He began to wrap his hands in preparation for a workout on the heavy bag, glancing up at the sudden sound of others entering the room.

O’Neill was chatting away, regaling something of importance to DanielJackson, who strolled at his side, head down, listening to the older man’s informative monologue about the value of martial arts.

Teal’c ignored them as they did their warm-ups, glancing at them occasionally as they started their regular round of hand-to-hand combat training. 

DanielJackson had requested this intensive training shortly after his return to Earth.  

It seemed strange when Teal’c first observed O’Neill teaching DanielJackson, but understood after spending more time with the newly descended man that this was not quite the same DanielJackson they had lost after Kelowna.

He was more intense, more serious, but also quicker to smile and laugh than before his ascension. He took all his training at the SGC more seriously, driven to learn, to better his fighting skills.

Applying his prodigious intellect to this physical challenge, the scientist had become a proficient warrior. 

His first reaction in a fire fight or fist fight was still to duck and cover, but he moved into the fray more quickly and now carried his own weight in the battle.

Teal’c thought there was still a great deal for DanielJackson to learn but in time, with experience, he would become the equal of any of SG-1 in battle.

Perhaps, one day, he might even surpass them all.  

Teal’c smiled to himself as O’Neill threw his younger friend down on the mats yet again.

DanielJackson sucked in a breath painfully, and O’Neill gave him a hand to haul him back to his feet. 

Teal’c had made another recent observation about his youngest teammate.

The revelation had come as a surprise and required additional covert study before Teal’c was certain of his conclusion.

He strolled over to the equipment rack, chose a rubber knife similar in size to ones they used in the field, and walked toward the two men on the mats. 

“DanielJackson,” he called.

When the man turned, Teal’c tossed the knife to him.

DanielJackson caught with expert grace by the handle.

Teal’c smiled inwardly and glanced at the Colonel. “Try that technique again, O’Neill.” 

Before his ascension, the scholar would have dodged the knife, let it hit the floor and then picked it up. Now, he had known exactly where to reach in mid-flight to pluck it out of the air without touching the blade.

This was a different DanielJackson, indeed. 

“Why?” The Colonel rested his hands on his hips and cocked his head. “I think I’ve beaten Daniel up enough for one day, don’t you?” 

Teal’c just waited, one eyebrow arching in a silent challenge. 

O’Neill turned back to face his student. “Okay. One more time, though that knife’s not gonna make any difference.”

The Colonel tipped his chin up in playful defiance. “Stab me, knife boy.” 

DanielJackson glanced at the rubber weapon in his hand.

When his head came up, his expression was different, glittering with intensity.

He turned the weapon in his hand so that the spine of the blade was flat against his forearm, the handle clutched in a reverse grip, thumb closed over the top of the handle.

With his arm hanging down at his side, the blade was pointing straight upward, in line with his forearm and all but hidden from view. 

Teal’c knew this would make the knife harder to dislodge from a fighter’s hand because it was protected by the arm and tightly clutched in a firm grip. Using the weapon in that manner would require the fighter to get in very close to his opponent, but it also allowed the one wielding the blade to push it harder and cut deeper because the fighter’s weight would be pressing in with the natural motion of the arm. Holding the knife like that was like growing a sharp spine on the underside of the forearm. 

He smiled to himself and stood still to watch, his own workout temporarily forgotten. 

“I haven’t taught you reverse grip,” O’Neill corrected, pointing at the knife. “Do it with the blade pointing forward.” 

“I’m more comfortable with it like this,” DanielJackson assured him.  

“Okay, whatever. Go for it.” O’Neill dropped down slightly into a ready position and waited for the attack, knees slightly bent, hands raised defensively, one close in to the body, the other extended outward. 

DanielJackson’s left shoulder was angled toward O’Neill, his head turned to make eye contact. Knife held in his right hand, DanielJackson dropped his gaze to the center of O’Neill’s chest and then attacked.

He moved faster now, stepping in close to O’Neill, turning to his left as he closed the space between them. His body deflected O’Neill’s hands as he finished the turn, his arm rising as he moved, fist closed over the handle, the blade hidden against DanielJackson’s forearm.

Almost faster than Teal’c’s eye could follow, Daniel sliced diagonally across the Colonel’s sweatshirt from left hip to right armpit, following the arc described by his thumb as if he was simply raising his arm inside that tight space between the two men as he turned. 

Stunned but still stepping into position for the throw, O’Neill stopped dead in his tracks when that rubber blade made a sharp, graceful turn from his right armpit up to his left ear, swiping across his throat.

The dull blade scraped deeply against the underside of his jaw.

Had it been a real knife, the second cut would have been a mortal wound. 

Teal’c saw the look in DanielJackson’s eyes at that moment.

It was fearless, calculated, powerful.

He _had_ learned the lessons O’Neill taught him, and improved upon them. 

For a moment, no one spoke. DanielJackson stepped away, his face flushing bright pink. His eyes slid away from Jack’s and he spoke to the far wall, looking anywhere but at his C.O, and finally at the mats beneath their feet.

“Sorry, Jack. I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to do that.”

He stood with his head down, looking guilty and contrite. 

Teal’c cocked his head, expecting the scholar to respond with stubborn pride rather than apparent shame in his prowess.

That made no sense.

Perhaps it was a result of the migraine the man had been experiencing earlier in the day.

He was not quite himself. 

“Yeah, you did,” O’Neill returned a little breathlessly.

His head turned now toward Teal’c. “Okay, why’d you give him the knife, and what difference did it make? ‘Cause it obviously made one.”

His eyes turned back to study the younger man. 

“I have noticed that DanielJackson is a more accurate and effective fighter with a weapon in his hand,” Teal’c intoned. “In the field, his skill with his pistol never fails us. While he is not the expert marksman that MajorCarter is, he is still an excellent shot. Given a knife in hand-to-hand combat, his fighting skills improve dramatically because he can focus on the weapon, rather than on himself, against his opponent. Rather like using a magnifying glass to turn sunlight into an ignition source. A man with a weapon fights far differently than one who is empty-handed.” 

DanielJackson appeared startled by that observation. He stared down at the rubber knife in his hand. “Huh,” he grunted softly. “I never thought of it that way but you’re right. I need a tool.” 

He flipped the knife up into the air and caught it, flicked it into the reverse position in his palm and sliced it through the air. “Imagine that.”

He smiled up at the Jaffa. “Thanks, Teal’c. I’ll remember that.”

He glanced at O’Neill, his stance and face now filled with easy confidence. “Shall I kill you some more or have we had enough for today?” 

“We’ll work on T’s theory some more tomorrow, maybe. I need to get to work. Colonel stuff, you know.” 

DanielJackson nodded, expertly tossed Teal’c the knife and headed out of the gymnasium.

Both men watched him leave, contemplating what they had just seen.

Then O’Neill turned to him with a sigh. “Thanks, buddy. You know, I never expected that, but as smart as he is, I guess it was only a matter of time before he learned to beat me at this stuff.”

He touched his throat, remembering, “but he _still_ needs to learn to do it empty handed. There won’t always be a weapon in reach out there and he’s gotta know how to hurt, disable and kill with his bare hands, for when the time comes, when it’s necessary.”  

“Yes. I am pleased to see that he is learning to overcome his weaknesses. We will be a stronger team for it.” 

O’Neill raised his head, shook off the somber mood and smiled up at his taller teammate. “Enough of the talk about work, T. It’s your birthday! Go have fun striking fear into the new kids.”

He clapped the Jaffa on the shoulder and followed DanielJackson out of the gym. 

Teal’c cocked his head, thinking about the irony in that last exchange. 

The Tau’ri were _very_ strange people indeed. 

After a rousing workout teaching new recruits some of the _mastaba_ fighting methods, Teal’c returned to the showers, afterward heading back to the commissary for a late lunch. Following that, he wrote up the necessary reports on the training session and saved the electronic file for future use. The reports were only filed weekly, though he made daily entries to ensure they were as accurate as possible. 

Taking a little break, he decided to log onto the Internet, checking both of the Colorado Springs newspapers’ websites, investigating new reports on the mysterious ninja crime-fighter. Theories abounded but none of the handful of articles he read about the Man in Black had the feel of real research, filled instead with mild to wild public speculation as to his identity.

Several people remarked that he carried a sword; others said they never saw one. Sometimes he would wear a black ninja mask; at other times a motorcycle helmet. No two descriptions of him were exactly the same but the efficient way he had carried out his rescues left no doubt that he knew what he was doing. 

Teal’c was certain that the enigmatic hero would eventually be unmasked or, as the Colonel feared, hurt or killed during one of his encounters.

He logged off, hopeful that whatever gods were watching might look after the unknown warrior. 

He checked the clock on his computer and saw that it was time to meet MajorCarter on Level 28. 

“Hey, Teal’c,” she called when she saw him. She stood just outside the embarkation room beside a folding table stacked with picture frames.

Holding a pencil and ruler in her hands, she pointed to the marks she had made on the corridor wall.

“I’ve got the punch spots marked,” she informed him. “Sergeant Siler’s bringing me a power drill to make the holes, and once I get a couple started, you can put in the screws. How was training today?” 

He frowned at her mightily and made a disapproving growl low in his throat. “These recruits are innocent children who have very little concept of true combat. Their training will go very slowly because they have so much to learn.” 

“That bad, huh?” She grinned. “Well, maybe I’ll be able to come up and help tomorrow after the excitement dies down. Yelling at the new kids is always fun.”

Her smile broadened.  

She pointed with her ruler at the electric screwdriver and canvas tool belt filled with metal screws. “Those are for you. I’ll be finished with the marking in a sec.” 

Teal’c tied the apron around his waist, fastening the straps in the back, then picked up the screwdriver and gave it a test squeeze, making the shaft turn and die. “I am ready, MajorCarter.”  

She glanced up just as SergeantSiler appeared with the drill.

“Shall we?” she asked, and pulled a stepladder into position to start the top row of holes, aiming the drill at the first mark. “Major Ferreti and his team will be by later to help with hanging the pictures once we’ve got the screws in. That part shouldn’t take long.”  

“I will assist you until we are finished here,” Teal’c assured her. 

“Thanks,” she said with a gleam of contentment in her eyes. “I couldn’t have done this without you, you know. You’ve been a huge help, Teal’c. I appreciate that.” 

He nodded and waited for her to get started on the project that had taken so much of their personal time over the last year, now coming to fruition.

Hours later, all the holes were punched and the screws set. 

MajorCarter hung Ernest Littlefield’s picture at the top herself, straightening it until it was perfectly level. Small magnets attached to the lower corners on the back of the frames would help keep the pictures in place through all the vibrations the rotating Stargate sent through the floor and walls, but eventually many would need straightening. 

The second row of pictures featured Colonel O’Neill, Ferretti, Kawalski, Daniel, and all the others from the very first mission to Abydos. Below that, hung closest to the door, was a group photo of the current roster of SG-1, with the other teams in line after that in numerical order. As rosters changed, new photos would be taken and old ones replaced so that only active teams were featured on this tribute wall. 

“It’s gonna look great, Teal’c!” she told him, reaching for the next team picture. 

“Indeed,” he agreed. “A fitting tribute to the first contact teams, from the beginning.” 

He stepped back to gaze at the completed display and felt satisfaction in her accomplishment blossom again.

It was a beautiful homage, he thought, an accomplishment that MajorCarter should be proud to have completed. It was a reflection of her spirit, of her warmth and kindness, her courage and support, not only of her fellow teammates, but also of everyone who served at the SGC. 

The work was tedious and monotonous but as each picture went up Teal’c felt a growing sense of contentment.

Trapped as he was between two vastly different worlds, this was the one place that felt like home, the only family he could still claim. Master Brata’c was like a father to him, raising Rya’c in his absence but the toll of this never-ending struggle against the Goa’uld had kept his son so far away from him it felt as if Rya’c belonged more to his mentor than to himself. 

By the time the last screw had been set Teal’c knew time for their appointment at Jack Quinn’s was drawing near.

He excused himself to change into civilian clothes and find an appropriate hat to go with his outfit, choosing a black Henley shirt, dark grey pants with a fine houndstooth print, with an Irish walking cap to top it off and hide the golden seal on his forehead. Lastly he picked up his black leather jacket, draping it over his arm for fending off the cool of the early spring night. 

He went to DanielJackson’s office and knocked on the frame around the open door.

“It is time, DanielJackson,” he announced, eyeing the new suit the scientist was wearing and taking note of the fact that his sunglasses were back in place of his regular lenses. “Are you ready?” 

“Just one second,” he said, jotting down a note in his journal.

He sighed, closed the book and started stacking the other books on his desk.

He opened a drawer and took out a wrapped package covered in gold paper and tied with a festive red bow.

 With a smile, DanielJackson rose, tucked the present under his arm and headed for the door. “Shall we?” 

They checked a car out of the motor pool and Teal’c drove to the restaurant on South Tejon. The exterior had the look of a European bookshop, with gray-blue painted wood and tall, narrow windows. Above the door a large black sign with white letters bore the establishment’s name, Jack Quinn’s Irish Ale House and Pub, and the two men strolled in and asked to be seated with the O’Neill party.

They found the Colonel already seated in a booth, a small package wrapped in brightly colored paper featuring cartoon characters set in the middle of the table. 

As Teal’c and DanielJackson slid into the booth with him, O’Neill checked his watch. “Hey! Happy birthday, T. Thought you guys would _never_ get here. Women have been trying to pick me up for half an hour.” 

DanielJackson glanced over the top of his sunglasses, checking out the dining room which was exquisitely decorated in rich dark woods and frosted glass panels.

“What women, Jack? You wish.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, then pushed his shades up higher on his nose. 

A moment later, a breathless MajorCarter dashed in and plopped down onto the open space beside Teal’c.

“Sorry I’m late, guys,” she panted. “Just tying up loose ends.”

She glanced at her watch and shot a meaningful, sober glance at the Colonel. 

He lifted his eyebrows in a silent question, then raised his hands to emphasize the gesture. 

She shook her head. “He promised,” she told him emphatically. “They’ll be ready.” 

“Who promised what?” asked DanielJackson, glancing between them, suspicion drawing his eyebrows downward. “What will be ready when?” 

O’Neill’s eyes twinkled. “You wanna add a ‘where’ and ‘how’ for good measure, there, Daniel?” 

“You will find out tomorrow,” Teal’c promised. “For now, we must celebrate another year together.”

He sobered, remembering that DanielJackson had been gone for most of that year between his birthdays. “And the return of one we have greatly missed.” 

“Celebrate the living,” O’Neill agreed with a nod.

He glanced up and eyed the waitress who appeared at their booth. “Drinks all around, on me.” 

They ordered beverages - Guinness for O’Neill, diet cola for MajorCarter, Zinfandel for Daniel and water for himself - after which the group turned their attention to the menus.

By the time the waitress reappeared with their drinks, they gave her their food order and raised their glasses in salute to each other.

Conversation was quiet and familiar and Teal’c felt at peace for the first time in a long while.

Periodically his gaze would drift to DanielJackson’s face when he was not speaking, listening intently to the talk flying back and forth between O’Neill and Major Carter. 

Teal’c saw the restlessness there as he fidgeted, unable to sit still.

He seemed to be looking for someone or something, as if expecting an unwanted guest to come through the door, glancing at it often over his shoulder. Something vexed the scholar at a time when he should have been able to relax with his friends, and that troubled Teal’c. 

Their food came and Teal’c stared down at his plate for a moment. Covering most of the platter was a heaping mound of Yukon gold mashed potatoes. Beside them lay a steaming pile of mild Irish sausages nudging into fresh steamed green beans and battered strips of fried onions.

He tried one of the sausages and approved the flavor after a thorough chew. Taking a bite of each of the offerings, he decided he liked Bangers and Mash, and complimented the scholar on the idea. 

O’Neill reached over with his fork and speared a sausage without a break in the joke he was telling.  

Teal’c watched his sausage disappear into his commanding officer’s mouth.

Such an act on Chulak could lose a man both his hand and his social standing, but customs on Earth were different.

Over the years Teal’c had learned that taking food off someone else’s plate was never done in polite company,  only in the intimate surroundings of family. That O’Neill felt comfortable enough with his teammates to sample their food - as he also did with MajorCarter and DanielJackson as well - was testimony to the strength of the bond between them all. 

For a moment Teal’c just sat and studied the humans surrounding him, contemplating his appreciation of them on this special occasion.

From his first look in O’Neill’s defiant eyes and his plea for help in Apophis’ dungeon, Teal’c knew this man was a singular warrior… but he was so much more than that.

He was a man of honor, strength and courage; someone worth admiring. 

MajorCarter, for all her brilliance and pleasant demeanor, was a well of deep affection and fierce loyalty. 

And DanielJackson was the best of them all. His was the way of the peaceful warrior, fighting only when necessary, always seeking other alternatives to violence. He was compassionate and wise far beyond his years.

Teal’c felt humbled to know that a man less than a third his age had managed to reach a higher spiritual plane simply by virtue of his character and understanding. 

There was much Teal’c could learn from these three and much that they had learned from him.

Courage, love and wisdom were excellent companions, and he thought those were the best gifts of all, the constant presence of these three in his life.

He felt he was a rich man, indeed. 

The waitress came and cleared the plates away and three presents were pushed toward him. 

“I need no gifts,” he told them fondly. “I already have all that I need, here with me tonight.” 

“Aw, Teal’c! That’s sweet,” MajorCarter said warmly. “But we got you stuff anyway. Here, open mine first.” She thrust a large envelope toward him. 

On the cover was a small black and white drawing of a kitten looking up at a dark blue sky spangled with stars. Beneath the cat it read, _I hope the stars shine especially bright for you tonight._  

Inside, the message continued: _If they don’t, squint. It makes them look sparklier._  

She had written, _Happy 105! Love, Sam._  

He read the card aloud and withdrew a gift certificate to Illuminations, his favorite candle shop.

“Thank you, MajorCarter. I will enjoy this greatly.”

He smiled and accepted the gaily wrapped package from O’Neill. That was a new game for his X-Box, patterned after the wildly successful television series, _Wormhole X-treme!_  

“I get to be the Colonel when we play it together,” O’Neill announced. 

Teal’c smiled. “Then I shall be Grell.” He offered a polite nod in thanks for the gift. 

DanielJackson held onto his package for a moment, a look of indecision on his face.

Finally, he laid the gold-wrapped package on the table and slid it across to his teammate. “Happy birthday, Teal’c.” Then he studied the floor not far away. 

Carefully, Teal’c unwrapped the parcel. Inside was a leather-bound book, the cover stamped in gold.

He read the title aloud. “ _A Book of Five Rings_ by Miyamoto Musashi and _The Art of War_ by Sun…”

He couldn’t pronounce the last name. 

“Sun Tzu,” DanielJackson finished for him. “Open it up.” 

The title page inside had an added note, printed at the bottom. “A new translation by Daniel Jackson, Ph.D.”

That surprised Teal’c.

“You wrote this book for me?” 

The scientist cleared his throat. “Uh, not exactly. I’d been working on it for a while, since Lord Yu came here for the negotiations with the Asgard. Figured I should brush up on my Asian histories and cultural icons.”

He glanced at O’Neill, then back at Teal’c. “I found the manuscript in the base archives and finished it up after I… got back. Then I had a copy of it bound just for you. They’re both classics for warriors from some of the greatest military minds of our planet.” 

“Can I see that?” asked O’Neill, lifting it out of Teal’c’s unresisting hands.

He gazed at the book, turning the pages, talking as he skimmed through it. “Musashi was a samurai who was never defeated in a swordfight. Sun Tzu trained armies that conquered most of Asia. Both of ‘em scholars as well as warriors.”  

He fell silent for a moment, looking at an illustration in the book. Then he squinted at it. “Daniel, did you draw this?” He held up the picture, pointing at the signature.

MajorCarter reached for the book and pulled it away from him and Teal’c got a look at the artwork then. 

It was a portrait of Teal’c dressed up in samurai armor, striking a dramatic pose. 

DanielJackson shrugged. “Well, yeah. All archaeologists learn to draw. We _have_ to. Not everything we recover from a dig site can be photographed properly and we have to make notes on pieces of artifacts and--”

 “Damn, Daniel, is there anything you _can’t_ do?” O’Neill demanded with a note of startled admiration. 

The scholar seemed nonplussed behind his shades. “Well, of course, Jack. I can’t tango, drive a tank or give birth. There are _lots_ of things I can’t do.”  

MajorCarter burst out laughing.  

Daniel reached for his after-dinner coffee and casually took a sip.

The two men just stared at each other, until DanielJackson finally turned away with a small smile.  

“That was a good one, Daniel,” MajorCarter said gaily. “Give birth. Not exactly something you can learn, though the other two…”

She stopped talking when the Colonel gave her a stern look.

Handing the book back to Teal’c, she added, “It’s a beautiful book, Daniel. Nice job.”

Then she glanced at her seatmate. “Could I read it when you’re done? I’d like to see Daniel’s take on those subjects.” 

“They were translated from the original texts,” DanielJackson announced. “Both men were elegant writers. I think you’ll enjoy it.” 

“I believe I will, DanielJackson. Thank you. I shall treasure this book which you have made for me.”

He glanced down at the picture, impressed by the likeness and the attention to detail.

Teal’c would not have guessed that the man was such an excellent artist. 

He looked up at his young friend. DanielJackson was fidgeting in his seat, looking even more tense than usual.  

“Uh, sorry, Teal’c, but I have to leave now,” he said brusquely, sliding off the bench and standing beside the table.

He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, then pulled them back out and buttoned his jacket.

His hands were shaking. 

“Then we shall accompany you, DanielJackson,” Teal’c responded, reaching for his gifts and starting to stack them together. 

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” the scientist shot back, raising a hand. “You guys stay and party. I’ll take a taxi back to the base. Hope you had a great birthday. See you guys later.”

He fumbled in his pocket for his wallet as he talked, threw down a couple of bills on the table and left before anyone could speak. 

“What the hell was _that_ all about?” O’Neill asked unhappily, his brows tugged down in a perplexed frown over his eyes. “He didn’t even stay for the cake!”

He signaled the waitress, who disappeared into the kitchen to fetch their dessert. 

Teal’c sighed. “DanielJackson has not been himself lately,” he offered quietly. “I do not believe he is ill aside from an increased frequency of migraines, but he is distracted and tense, especially at night. I have suggested he see DoctorFraiser but he wishes to find his own solution to this problem.” 

“I _thought_ something was up with him,” O’Neill agreed worriedly. “Has he had any trouble with anyone on the base, arguments or head-butting with anybody?” 

Teal’c shook his head. 

“No, sir, not that I know of,” MajorCarter answered, her eyes wide with concern. “Has he been working out too hard, maybe? I mean, I know you two have been getting really intense with the hand-to-hand combat training lately but he just seems like…”

She glanced down at the table, her brows twitching together as she remembered specific incidents in question, “…like he’s had a lot of _accidents_ lately. He winces when he moves but passes it off to clumsiness, running into doors and stuff.”  

She waited for acknowledgment from either of the men. They just eyed her, waiting for more details. “Look, I don’t know if you two have noticed it or not but he’s not as clumsy as he used to be. I’m not buying the stories.” 

O’Neill stared down at the table, deep in thought. “I saw bruises on him this morning before our workout. That was why I was asking about the arguments. I know I’ve been rough with the training but it’s what he’s wanted. I’d _know_ if I were leaving a mark. _I_ didn’t put those there and they didn’t come from falling against the stair railing.” 

“You are correct,” Teal’c told them both. “He _is_ hiding something from us. Something he does not wish us to know.” 

“I’ll find out what it is,” O’Neill promised. “We’ll help him, even if he doesn’t want help.” 

The waitress came toward their table with a small round chocolate cake bearing a handful of burning candles. The entire waitstaff of the pub followed her and when she set the cake down, they began to sing the Jack Quinn version of the birthday song. 

_“Well, here sits a bloke with a birthday_

_“Who thinks getting older’s a curse, eh?_

_“But you’re never too stale_

_“To get laid and drink ale,_

_“So be thankful today’s not your worst day!”_

 

O’Neill and MajorCarter chuckled and applauded. Teal’c merely raised a questioning eyebrow, after which the staff scattered. 

He looked at his cake. “There are only seven candles, O’Neill,” he observed. 

The Colonel smiled. “Yeah. One for each year you’ve been with us, T. I figure when you joined up with us, it was kinda like being reborn. Brave new world, and all that.” 

“Indeed.” He leaned over and blew the candles out. 

They flared into brilliant life again.

 Teal’c stared at the candles, then blew them out again. And again. And was about to try for a fourth time when O’Neill explained with a devious grin that they were trick candles. 

“The Tau’ri are strange people,” he observed aloud, staring at the candles as O’Neill dunked each one into DanielJackson’s coffee cup. 

MajorCarter cut and served the cake and they chatted about classic practical jokes and birthday traditions as they ate it.

Eventually they began to make ready to go their separate ways.

O’Neill paid the bill, and MajorCarter and Teal’c stood up to wait for him.

 They exited onto the sidewalk out front and stood silently for a moment, just appreciating the fact that they still had each other in their lives. 

“There’s one more present for tonight,” O’Neill told him warmly, patting him on the shoulder.

He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, his expression serene and pleased. “We took the liberty of having Siler put it in your quarters while we were out tonight. Hope you don’t mind that we barged into your personal space like that.” 

“What is this gift, O’Neill?” 

“You’ll see when you get home,” MajorCarter assured him with a smile. “It’s from almost everybody on the base, Teal’c. We took up a collection and got you the best one we could find, engineered by NASA. Janet and I picked out the… uh… wrappings.” 

“Do you wish to observe while I open it, as with your other gifts?” 

They shook their heads, both grinning.

“No, this is one you should open alone.” MajorCarter said goodbye and waved as she left, promising to call if she needed any help finishing up her project. 

The two men watched her walk away.  

O’Neill clapped him on the shoulder. “Go home, T. Get some sleep. Got another big day tomorrow.” He grinned. “The biggest.” 

Teal’c nodded, remembering. “Tonight we have celebrated the living. Tomorrow we remember the dead. It is good that we do this for ourselves... and for those left behind.” 

Pride shone in O’Neill’s eyes. “Yeah. It’s a good thing. Friendship is a gift we give ourselves, and we need to remember how privileged we are to have such good folks in our lives.”

He turned to stroll toward his truck, head down in thought, casting his voice over his shoulder as he walked. “See you later, T. Happy birthday.” 

“It _has_ been happy, O’Neill.” Teal’c strolled slowly toward the borrowed car, wondering what this last gift was that the whole of the SGC had purchased for him. 

After turning in the borrowed car at the motor pool, he climbed up the side of the mountain, his breath puffing out in a sheer white cloud as he exhaled.

There was a special spot he had picked out, high up on the slope with a view of the yawning entrance to the mountain and of the city sprawled out beneath it.

This was the place he had come to mark his own memorial to the lost, practicing the ritual of Chulak for the dead. In this spot he had burned many candles in the sheltered alcove of stone, reading aloud the words he wished to say to the departed and then burning the letters, watching the ashes fly away on the wind, carrying his message to the stars. 

He could see little in the darkness but the memories of that place were sweet and sharp, bitter and warm all at the same time.

Here he had mourned DanielJackson in private, when no public ceremony was held after his ascension.

Now his friend was back but tomorrow Teal’c would return here in the dark with another letter, one for all those who would be remembered in the coming ceremony. He would read their names aloud to the night and every year afterward, he would repeat the ritual, adding in the new names on the list for those most recently fallen.

As long as he lived, that would be his special part in the ceremony, his _personal_ memorial to the lost. 

Looking upward, he saw great swaths of tiny lights dotting the sky. Millions of stars shone overhead in the cold blackness of space, separated by vast spaces from each other, yet many of them connected by a network of portals placed by an ancient race eons past.

The Tau’ri had explored a few of them, discovering fascinating new things on each planet they touched.

Sometimes they all came home with nothing more to report than sand in their shoes, but sometimes they didn’t come home at all. 

Embracing himself against the cool seeping through his jacket, Teal’c searched the darkness below him, watching the distant city lights twinkle against the gloom. Those lights reminded him of the lost ones, bright points of light gleaming against the smothering shadows.

One day, he promised himself, there would be a sunrise of freedom for a thousand worlds. When the Goa’uld were defeated, when they were no longer a threat to anyone, all of humanity scattered all through the galaxy would then be able to live in the light. 

That would be a good day, indeed. Well worth whatever sacrifice they paid. 

He trudged down the mountainside and took the elevator down to Sublevel 11.

Checking in at the security station posted between the elevators, he saw that DanielJackson had signed in ahead of him.

He straightened and stared down at the signature page, an idea beginning to form in his mind.

He shook it off, chastising himself for being as absurd as the tabloids he so enjoyed. 

Teal’c glanced at the partitions standing behind the security desk.

Construction had been underway on this floor for three months now and it had only been finished that week. The short gray corridor that once linked the access elevators was now covered with beautiful wood paneling. Soft dark blue carpeting made a welcome cushion beneath his feet. The partitions where the wall had been were gray and ugly but Teal’c had already seen what was on the other side of that temporary barrier, having helped to build it and finish up the decorating.

Most of it was done, save for a last few pictures to hang. 

He glanced at his watch. The deadline was nearing and he knew MajorCarter had been stressed as she arrived at the party because SergeantSiler had not yet returned with the printed photos as he’d promised he would.

Teal’c wished the soldier at the security post a good night and rode the elevator down to Level 25, where he and DanielJackson had their permanent quarters. 

As he passed by the scholar’s room, he glanced down at the book in his hands, his suspicion from moments earlier growing more powerful as each second passed. 

He looked at the closed door, staring, trying to imagine… 

No, he must be wrong, he decided.

DanielJackson rarely left the base, and then only in the company of others on his team. Perhaps it was time to stop reading the tabloids and concentrate on more worthwhile publications, such as the wonderful book in his hands. 

Teal’c pulled his pass card from his pocket and swiped it through the lock on his door. He pushed it open and found the lights already shining, left on by the interlopers who had brought his final gift. Directly in line with the door, his meditation cushion and the surrounding candles were undisturbed.

He stepped inside the room and glanced left, his face breaking into a wide smile as he spotted his final gift. 

The uncomfortable military cot was gone! In its place was a large bed, fully big enough for a man his size. Stout wooden posts stood at the four corners. The mattress was covered in beige sheets, already folded down in invitation. Thick, soft blankets lay beneath a black velvet bedspread embroidered in heavy gold thread. 

Entranced, he moved toward it, reaching out to touch the linens in awe. The sheets, he discovered, were made of silk, smooth and soft, warming beneath his fingers. With one hand he pressed into the mattress and saw that the surface of it formed exactly into the shape of his spread fingers. It was firm yet pliable and he wondered what it would feel like beneath him.  

Standing by the foot of the bed was a large card, fully five feet tall and four wide.

Someone had airbrushed a caricature of him on the front of the card beneath the words, _“Our Favorite Jaffa!”_

The cartoon Teal’c was smiling outrageously. In his hand he held a staff weapon in the shape of a giant blue-and-white-swirled birthday candle. Dressed in Jaffa armor that twinkled silver, he stood on a cake with fluffy yellow frosting, all the candles in a bundle on the side, looking more like jet exhausts than candles. The emblem on his forehead was a white oval outlined in red, but instead of the snake of Apophis in the center, there were three red letters. 

 _STP._  

He wondered what they represented, making a mental note to ask MajorCarter later.

Stepping fully into the room, he set his presents down on a nearby table and went to take a closer look at the card.

Inside in big, bold letters, a message had been printed:

 

_Happy Birthday, Teal’c! From all of your friends at the SGC._

 

The inside surface of the card was _covered_ with signatures.

He felt a lump rising in his throat as he looked at them, taking care to try and decipher every scrawl. Some were so indistinct he couldn’t distinguish a name in the loops and squiggles, but it didn’t matter. That the people he saw in the corridors each day cared enough to add their names to this paper touched him deeply.

Some wrote little messages, which he read with a full heart.  

Finally, when he was certain he had looked upon each signature at least once, he turned back to the bed. Eagerly he took off his clothes and left them in a pile where he stood. Tonight he would forego meditation until a little later; he had to try out that bed _immediately_.

Slipping beneath the covers, he lay back against the thick new pillows and let his body relax. 

It was like floating in a pool of warm water.

He sighed as his eyes drifted closed, aware of the wide smile on his lips, unable to wipe it off.

His arms and legs spread out until he completely covered the mattress, end to end and side to side.

He meant to rise and brush his teeth but the lure of the bed kept him snuggled down into it, unwilling to leave its comforting warmth. 

“Ahhhhh,” he moaned blissfully. “The Tau’ri are _wonderful_ people.” 

Without realizing exactly when it happened, he fell asleep, content in the knowledge that, on this world, among these strange, wonderful people, he was _loved_.

Now, in this comfortable bed, it seemed to Teal’c that he had, after more than a century in exile, found a place to call home.

 

**In Memoriam**

**Teal'c**

**P3X-22Y**

**August 13, 1999**

 Next Chapters:

A Day in the Life of Sam: _Forget Me Not_

A Day in the Life of Jack: _A Man of Honor_

A Day in the Life of Daniel: _The Man in Black_

 _Night Watch,_ Part I and II


	2. A Day in the Life of Sam: Forget Me Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam continues working on the memorials.

From the moment the alarm clock went off, Samantha Carter was wide awake. She’d had trouble getting to sleep the night before, but that was simply anticipation at work on her active mind.

Today was a big day, the biggest she’d had in a while. She smiled as she threw the covers back and climbed out of bed.

Today was Teal’c’s birthday and the day she would finish up the Wall.  

She turned on the bathroom radio, hoping for some music she could sing to in the shower. Instead, she heard a reporter delivering the story of yet another incident regarding Colorado Springs’ very own mysterious hero.

For nearly two weeks now, a man dressed in black, his head covered by a mask or motorcycle helmet, had appeared at several crime scenes during the commission of the violent acts. To date, he had foiled two robberies, stopped a carjacking, prevented a torch job and averted two attempted murders. 

The latest crime hit Sam a little more personally.

As she stepped under the spray of water in her shower, she could envision a man breaking in and attacking the sleeping woman in the report.

Had the Man in Black not shown up when he did, the woman might have been raped and/or murdered in her home.

 Sam shook her head, thankful that the unknown hero had been there at just the right moment. 

Her thoughts turned elsewhere as music began to play and soon she was humming along with the upbeat tune.  

As quickly as she could, she hurried to dress, get her makeup on and grab some coffee on the way to the base.

It was still early, but the most important things for tomorrow were yet to arrive and she was starting to get a little antsy.  

After rushing through the check-in on Level 11, she stopped by Siler’s photo studio on Sublevel 17 to confirm that it was still set up, just as it had been after the last shoot.

The Sergeant had been taking pictures there off and on for the last ten months and the majority of his equipment was still in place.  

Sam had been pleased to learn that photography was among the Sergeant’s background skills. Though annual formal portraits were required of all the military personnel on the base, several were long overdue and this seemed the most expedient way to get those done, as well as to provide a cover for the other photos being taken. Aside from ID photos, many of the civilian personnel at the SGC had no official portraits and she was taking care of that, getting all of them scheduled to sit for Siler over the last several months. Those photos would be added to their employee files for future use and team photos would be displayed on Level 28, decorating the wall just outside the ‘gate room. 

She smiled as she remembered Daniel’s face when she’d told him what she was doing – though not the full details of the project.

He apparently didn’t like having his picture taken and complained about it.

Sam reminded him that everybody had to do it and teased him that he wasn’t exempt just because he was Dr. Daniel Jackson. 

She headed for the locker room to gather the clothing she’d need for the shoot. Hanging them on the garment rack, she headed for the commissary at the far end of the floor, close to the elevators. The team was meeting for breakfast and she wanted to tease Daniel some more about the photo session.  

Hurrying through the breakfast line, she spotted the other three of her team members already seated at their usual table. 

“Happy birthday, Teal’c,” she announced as she sat down with her tray. “Boy, is today gonna be busy! And tonight – did we decide on where we were going?” She eyed the Colonel. 

She was surprised by his answer because it didn’t sound like a place Teal’c would choose and the choice on this night would definitely be his as the guest of honor.

However, the Jaffa assured her that Jack Quinn’s was, indeed, his preference for the birthday dinner.

She settled into her breakfast, in a hurry to eat and be gone since there was so much waiting for her to do. 

“You missed all the excitement,” Daniel told her as he polished off the last of his pancakes. “Feel privileged that you weren’t here to hear Jack and I sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ “ He smirked. 

She leaned toward him, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “The Colonel _sang_? In front of _everybody?”_  

Daniel nodded. “At the top of his lungs,” he assured her, a twinkle of merriment in his blue eyes as he peered at her over the top of his shades. “What the man lacks in tone he makes up for in sheer volume.”

He pretended to clean out his ear with his pinkie, making a sour face to emphasize his comment. 

Sam grinned. “Oooh, I _almost_ wish I hadn’t missed it.”

She shot a glance at Colonel O’Neill, who was leaning back, giving Daniel a melodramatic stare down his nose. “On second thought…” 

“You know, I’m gonna remember that come July when it’s _your_ turn,” said Jack. “Just you wait.” 

That got a wide-eyed look of mimed terror. “Uh... Jack, the only thing I want for _my_ birthday is for you _not_ to sing to me. Can I have that? Pleeeeease?”

His lips peeled back in a grimace meant to be a pleading smile, his eyebrows arching comically up his forehead. 

Jack just stared at him for another moment, temporarily out-dramatized by the younger man.

He straightened up and attacked his eggs, deigning not to make any rash promises.

As he was bringing his fork to his mouth, O’Neill asked, “So, is Siler ready upstairs? We gonna get this show on the road today?” 

Mouth full of blue raspberry Jell-O, Sam just nodded.

She hadn’t seen the Sergeant yet but was sure that, come Hell or high water, the man would show up for his shift. She hurried to swallow, but by then the Colonel had moved on to another subject, some of it having to do with real business and upcoming missions, then moaning about how wonderful it had been to work strictly at the base for the last two weeks with nothing off-world in sight. 

“That’s been quite a change,” Daniel agreed. “Everybody healthy and sitting at our desks all day. I’m practically bored to tears.”

He sighed and leaned on his left hand, making hieroglyphs in the remains of the syrup on his plate with one tine of his fork. 

“There have been invitations,” Jack reminded him. “We asked you to come with us to hockey games, a kegger at my house, movies... There was even that bachelor party for Coburn, but we haven’t been able to pry you away from the base. I was surprised you agreed to the party tonight.” 

Daniel stared at him over the top of his shades. “It’s Teal’c’s _birthday_ , Jack. You know I wouldn’t miss that.”

He frowned down at his plate, drew the snake of Apophis, then slashed his fork through it rapidly, slicing the image to bits.

“As for the other stuff… I just wasn’t ready. I’ve been trying to learn to feel comfortable _here_ before I go out _there_.”

He sighed, gesturing around at the room, and shrugged. 

“Okay.  I don’t wanna push you,” said Jack after he swallowed another bite. “So, have you got your last mission report finished yet?” 

“No. I’ll have that done by lunch.” 

“How about the video and photo records? Are they ready to show General Hammond?” 

“Working on it. They’re almost catalogued. Should be completed by the end of the day.” 

Teal’c stood up gracefully, picking up his tray. “I shall take my leave now, O’Neill.”

With a polite nod, he made his way toward the disposal area. 

“See you in a few, Teal’c,” Sam called.

She turned to Daniel with a smug, teasing smile. “We’re gonna take so many pictures of you, you’re gonna see flashbulbs popping in your sleep for a _week_!” 

“One head shot for the records,” he argued back. “I can live with that.” 

Jack allowed Teal’c to depart with barely a batted eyelash, listening to Sam and Daniel argue good-naturedly while he finished his breakfast.

Then the three of them headed for the elevator and the 17th floor. 

On the way, the Colonel decided to tell a rambling, aimless story about a photojournalist once assigned to go with his Special Ops team on a mission.

It might have been a funny story, but Sam found herself shutting out her C.O.’s chatter as details of her day scrolled through her mind.

When they arrived at the studio, Teal’c was seated on a stool with his fatigue jacket off, dressed in black T-shirt and green fatigue pants, looking stoic and handsome, as always.  

“I forgot my jacket!” Daniel announced, and headed back for the elevator while Sam and the Colonel moseyed closer to the makeshift stage, careful to stay well out of Siler’s way. 

“How’s it going, Sergeant?” she asked the man looking through the viewfinder of his Hasselblad. 

“Almost finished with Teal’c, Major,” came the brief reply. “I’d like to shoot you next, if that’s all right with you.”

He glanced up at Sam.

She nodded and he turned back to the camera.

“This is the last one in regulation clothes, sir,” Siler told his model. “We’ll do a couple in the Jaffa armor and that’ll be it for you ‘til we do the team shots. Major, you’re next, so if you’ll please get ready…” 

Teal’c left to change into his armor behind the dressing screen in the back corner and Sam caught the look of mischief in the Colonel’s eye.

He was planning something; that much was obvious.

When he mentioned ‘the money shot’ Sam’s mind went a whole other place and she had a hard time keeping a straight face. 

“Okay, Teal’c,” said Jack. “Think about… _Ishta_.” 

A smile of remembrance and delight spread across the Jaffa’s face at the mention of the Jaffa Amazon he’d taken a shine to recently.

Sam felt herself smiling, hoping he might get another chance to see his new girlfriend soon.

Colonel O’Neill seemed pleased by Teal’c’s response and by the fact that the look was immortalized on film. 

Daniel hurried back into the room during the last photo, coming to a dead stop when he saw Teal’c in his old armor. Jackson’s eyebrows arched up his forehead, his mouth drawing up into a quizzical pout.

He frowned at the clothing rack he seemed to notice for the first time and looked back at Sam, carrying the stool back in place under the lights.  

“Hey, come join us,” Jack called to the younger man. 

“Hi, Daniel,” said Sam, taking her seat. “What took you so long?” 

Daniel’s nervous reply about his lack of clothing made her feel a little sad for him.

Hopefully the suit they’d bought him recently would make up for some of that loss.

Sam sat quietly while Siler adjusted his equipment for her, listening to her teammates talking. 

A moment later, Daniel was gone again.  

She started to go after him but the Colonel told her he was just fetching additional wardrobe changes. 

“Apparently he didn’t read through the whole memo,” Jack told her. “You got the suit, right?” 

“Yes, sir. It’s in that garment bag on the wardrobe rack.” She pointed to the black bag at the end of the horizontal pole. 

“You’re sure it’ll fit?” 

She nodded. “I helped him buy his last new suit, and I remembered his sizes.” She smiled. “He’ll love it, sir. Daniel may not know beans about dressing casually but he _does_ know suits.” 

“That was really nice of you guys,” Siler observed. “Okay, now, Major, look right here and let’s have your ‘Major’ face on for this shot.”  

She turned her attention to the photographer.

In the background she heard the Colonel and Teal’c discussing the possibility of whether or not Daniel knew any of the details about tomorrow’s presentation, but Siler distracted her and she focused on doing what he needed so they could move faster through the shoot. 

Then she was off to change into the next outfit, listening to the men discussing the Springs’ ninja.

She wished she could catch a glimpse of the mystery man. Risking his life to save others made him cool in her book but, like the Colonel, she was sure that his heroics would only bring him to a tragic end at some point. 

She felt a little weird in Class A’s from the waist up and fatigue pants below, but her whole body wouldn’t be in this portrait shot, and Siler promised her she didn’t need to fuss with the skirt, stockings and pumps for this picture. 

“You know, I think the Man in Black is giving a lot of people hope,” she commented to her teammates as she stepped out from behind the changing screen. 

“And scaring the pants off the crooks,” Siler agreed with a smile. “Crime statistics have dropped fifteen percent in the last month. Did you guys know that?” 

“The guy’s an idiot,” Jack pronounced. “He’s been lucky so far, but the bad guys out there aren’t all stupid. Somebody’s gonna shoot his ass and then the crooks’ll think they can take over the place. He’s not doing anybody any favors, in the long run.” 

“He is saving lives,” Teal’c argued gently. “There are now nine people in this city who are grateful that he exists.” 

Jack nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I know, and good for them, but it can’t last. Nobody’s immortal and _somebody’s_ gonna kill the guy. He should get a clue.” 

Sam saw that Daniel had returned with his BDUs draped over his arm.

He stood by, listening to the conversation between the three men, his eyes moving from one face to the next, thinking and taking it all in.

When all eyes turned to him for an opinion, he shrugged silently and went to toss his camos over the top of the clothing rack, waiting for his turn. 

“The guy’s probably nuts,” said Jack as Sam returned to her seat on the stool. 

She didn’t miss the look Daniel shot at the Colonel.

Evidently, Daniel had the same opinion as Teal’c and Siler, that the mysterious ninja was a gift horse that shouldn’t be looked at too closely.

That look seemed to surprise the older man and he returned it forcefully until Daniel backed down.  

Those silent conversations between Daniel and the Colonel amazed Samantha Carter.

For two people who were such direct opposites on almost every level, the way they could understand each other’s slightest gesture, tone of voice or most veiled look was just amazing. They might have next to nothing in common but the team, yet they would defend each other to their dying breaths… and maybe a little beyond. 

She smiled on cue and turned her full attention back to Siler.  

After two more changes of clothes, they did the group shots and the Sergeant was finished with her for the sitting.

 Sam changed back into her green fatigues, gathered up all her various costumes, and headed for the locker room to put them all away.

With a sigh of relief, she checked her watch, calculating how long it would take for the remaining photos to be shot, developed and printed.

Then she crossed her fingers and hoped they’d be ready in time. 

Following a brief stop by her lab, she rode the elevator up to the eleventh floor.

The room looked great, and as soon as the partitions were gone it would be a real showplace. The crews were scheduled to break down and cart off the partitions during third shift, with plenty of time for the room to be properly presentable at 0800.

Presentations would begin at 1400, so there was still plenty of time to finish up. 

Checking her watch again, she recalculated as she studied the bare spaces on the walls, only a handful of them, but the most important spaces of all.

When she’d started this project a year earlier, she’d asked everyone she knew who had any kind of social contact with the man of the hour for any photos they might have taken of him. Aside from the one left in his office and the few team shots she and Colonel O’Neill owned, almost none existed. They’d had to make do with employee ID photos and those small snapshots until recently.

Now a full tribute could be made, finishing everything with the quality she originally envisioned. 

Colonel O’Neill came by with his contribution for the ceremony the following day, carefully setting all the boxes out in neat rows on the desk behind the raised marble counter.

Pride warmed her as she eyed the Medal of Honor that she knew would be presented to him the next day.  

When following normal procedure, Congress voted on who received that particular award of honor in the US military; however, since Area 52 did not officially exist, the President and Joint Chiefs, in response to her project, had decided to award a few special commendations to be recorded in private books, to be voted upon and re-awarded once the SGC went public.

The Medal of Honor was for the first Abydos mission, when Jack O’Neill had laid his life on the line to save the Earth from the threat of Ra. 

That medal would go up beside his photograph in a shadow box on the Wall, until such time as he could publicly bring it home. 

After he left, Sam re-checked the list on the clipboard she’d retrieved from her lab and headed for General Hammond’s office to acquire files on the new entries. He handed her the necessary photographs and she took them to her office to begin the solemn process of adding new faces to the Wall. Frames had already been purchased and were kept in one of the storage closets on Level 11, but brass plates with the person’s name, the appropriate date and planet designation would have to be engraved onto a brass plate, which she would later affix to the frame. 

There were three new ones, and she knew their stories by heart.

Memorial services had already been held and she had spoken at each one. The rest of the process would be finished later, because there wasn’t time to get them in with this first group. 

She eyed a small potted plant on her desk, the blossoms glowing softly blue under a full spectrum lamp. Being so far underground, the plants she kept in her personal spaces needed special lights to keep them alive, but this little flower held a special place in her heart.

It was a forget-me-not, her perennial reminder of the project she started so long ago. 

Brushing her fingers against the long, slender, delicate leaves, she sighed and turned her attention back to the files before her. Once the initial paperwork was completed, she put the photos into the folders with the engraving request and set them aside for later routing. The plaques would take at least a week, though she thought seriously about putting up the framed photos and adding the plaques later. After all, the people in the photographs would never know when their pictures went up. 

Sam Carter and the rest of the SGC, however, would always remember. 

After spending a few hours on necessary reports, she checked her watch and contemplated calling Sergeant Siler. Having to stop processing to answer a phone call to belay her fears would only interrupt the process, so she sighed and opened up a report, checking the data from the validation studies on the alien scanner they had recently brought back from a vanished civilization on P8X-23Y.

The scanner had potential, and the next step would be to send it off to Area 51for backward engineering studies.  

A thorough workout in the gym took some of the tension off, and after a shower and a change of clothes, she headed down to 28 to see if the supplies she’d ordered for 1400 hours had arrived. 

She signed for delivery of the tools and began measuring the wall outside the ‘gate room, calculating the proper measurements for the exact number of team photos necessary, and started marking off spots for drill holes.

There were seventeen active teams at the SGC, with more under consideration, provided the budget could be approved.

 With all the fantastic things being discovered off world and quietly making their way into public use, the revenues promised to fatten the SGC’s operating budget and eventually make it self-sufficient without requiring the use of any government funding. When that day came, the SGC might be able to add even more teams, exploring the vast unknown to the benefit of all humanity and coming closer to that enigmatic promise of a solution to the conflict with the Goa’uld. 

“More teams,” she said quietly, gazing at the neat rows of pencil marks on the metal walls. “They could really screw up my symmetry here, if they’re not careful.”

Then she smiled to herself, hoping the government would see its way to blowing her neatness to smithereens.

She’d love to see the entire walls on both sides of the corridor covered in team photos. 

Her smile faltered as she thought of the memorial upstairs, realizing that additional teams photos on this wall would _also_ inevitably mean more casualties on the other wall.

First contact missions were never cut and dried. Exploring other worlds was fraught with dangers and those who undertook this job knew and accepted the high cost.

Honoring those teams here was a small gesture of respect, as was the Memorial Wall on the 11th floor for the individuals who had fallen in this endeavor. 

It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do for now. 

The faint sounds of footfalls made her look up as Teal’c strolled toward her for their appointed meeting. “Hey, Teal’c,” she called, pointing at the wall with her pencil. “I’ve got the punch spots marked. Sergeant Siler’s bringing me a power drill to make the holes and once I get a couple started, you can start putting in the screws. How was training today?” 

His flicker of expression was eloquent enough, but his description of the recruits’ shortcomings left no doubt of his opinion.

They bantered a little while she gave him his screwdriver and tool belt.  

Siler delivered the drill and she asked about the progress on the photos.

“They’ll be done in time, I promise,” the Sergeant assured her. “I’ve got the film developed and initial prints made, and Lieutenant Marshall is scanning them in for me now. We’ll drop in the preselected backgrounds, do any necessary retouching, and then start printing. Want me to bring them by in batches as we finish or all at once?” 

“All at once is fine. That way, I’ll get it all done at once. Thanks, Sergeant. You’ve been an _invaluable_ asset to this project.”

She gave him a smile and he seemed pleased. 

“Thanks, Major. My pleasure.” Siler headed back toward the elevator and the photo project and Sam turned her attention back to Teal’c. 

“Shall we?” She pulled her nearby stepladder into place, climbed carefully up it, and aimed the drill at the first mark.

They chatted companionably as they worked, taking breaks as more volunteer help showed up to assist.

Hours later, all the holes were punched and the screws set. 

Sam hung Ernest Littlefield’s picture herself, straightening it until it was perfectly level. The second row of pictures featured Colonel O’Neill, Ferretti, Kawalski, Daniel and all the others from the very first mission to Abydos, and below that, hung closest to the door, was a group photo of the current roster of SG-1.  

She felt a little bad that Jonas wouldn’t be up on there, but the idea had been to honor current teams, rather than feature photos of every team as it evolve,d with original members disappearing due to retirement, disability, transfer or death, replaced by new blood. Showing every team past and present would take up more wall space than they had available, so the administration decided on photos of current teams only for the Littlefield Wall. 

“It’s gonna look great, Teal’c!” she announced to her friend, reaching for the next team picture. 

“Indeed,” he agreed. “A fitting tribute to the first contact teams from the beginning.”

He bowed out shortly afterward, and after checking her watch again, she turned the task of hanging the rest of the pictures over to Major Ferretti, who had appeared to help just in time. 

“Go have fun with Teal’c,” he suggested with a smile.

Glancing at the wall, he turned admiring eyes back to her. “Great job, Carter. Thanks for thinking of this. It’s hard, not letting anybody outside know, and this is a nice little tip of the hat for the teams.” 

“You’re welcome, Ferretti. Thanks for helping pull this off.”

 She shook his hand and headed for the elevator.  

Hurrying up to the locker room, she changed into black dress slacks and a pink sweater, checked her makeup, slipped into a pair of dress flats and took Teal’c’s birthday card from the shelf in her locker. Moments later she was on her way to Jack Quinn’s, looking forward to a little R&R with her team. 

The Colonel, Daniel and Teal’c were there by the time she arrived and she apologized for being late.

 Jack shot her an inquiring glance, asking without words whether or not the project would be finished on schedule, if Siler had come through yet on his part of the bargain.

She shook her head. 

“He _promised_ ,” she told him emphatically. “They’ll be ready.” 

Instantly, Daniel clued in on the fact that he’d been left out of the loop. 

The Colonel teased him and Teal’c put him off politely and turned their attention to the reason they had gathered just as the waitress appeared. 

Sam felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for Daniel, who had his sunglasses back on, though it was already dark outside and the restaurant wasn’t brightly lit.

He’d been having a lot of migraines lately and she wondered if he’d been by to see Janet about changing his medication.

She made a mental note to mention it to Janet the next time she saw her friend at the base.

Conversation distracted her and soon she was enjoying the camaraderie while keeping an eye on the team linguist hiding behind his shades. 

When their drinks were delivered, Sam ordered the potato encrusted salmon and grinned when Teal’c ordered Bangers and Mash.

He made it sound so erudite, but then everything had a tone of formality with her Jaffa teammate.

Daniel chose Nora Barnacle’s Seafood Boxty and the Colonel picked the drunken Angus ribeye he’d been dreaming about all day. 

Sam’s eyes went back to the menu to read the ingredients for the boxty.

It was an incredibly rich Irish potato pancake filled with seafood and cheese, covered in a cream sauce and served with seasoned veggies. Daniel might have to be reminded to eat regular meals when he was hip-deep in some translation or research project, but he _did_ love food – the more exotic, the better -- and this dish was a prime example.

 Just looking at the boxty would put ten pounds on her hips.

She was going to have to keep her eyes averted from his plate during the meal. 

Conversation turned to fun when the food arrived.

The Colonel’s appreciative remark about his steak brought back an old memory from her Pentagon days; once again she remarked to herself how similar to and how different O’Neill was from the man in her past that resembled him so much.

He didn’t need to know about her steamy affair with the Angus of her past, though, and she was pleased when he let the subject drop without further details. 

She dove into her potato encrusted salmon with delight, savoring every bite except the one her C.O. filched off her plate.

 Sam thought that was sort of endearing about him, how he treated them all like family, like his children, even knowing that he was less than half Teal’c’s age. 

Daniel’s restlessness kept drawing her eyes back to him as she ate.

He checked his watch, glanced over his shoulder at the door and shifted in his seat as if anxious to be somewhere else.

That bothered her, because she knew how he needed this sort of social interaction with his friends, but lately he’d almost been avoiding them. 

She wanted to talk to him, to put her hand over his and ask him to talk about whatever was bothering him.

He seemed even more closed off now that he had when he first descended, and it was starting to scare her.

When he should have been growing closer to them, he seemed instead to be pulling away. 

The waitress came and cleared away their dishes, interrupting her train of thought, and when she was gone, Colonel O’Neill called for the presents. 

“I need no gifts,” Teal’c declared contentedly. “I already have all that I need, here with me tonight.” 

Sam saw the look in his eyes as they moved from face to face around the table.

Such fierce loyalty, deep friendship and trust for them all brought a lump to her throat.

This was rare company, indeed, and she felt privileged to be among these men.  

Swallowing down the lump, she leaned toward him with a smile.

“Aw, Teal’c! That’s sweet, but we got you stuff anyway. Here, open mine first.”

She handed him a large envelope, sealed on the back with a Hallmark sticker, and sat up straight to watch him open it. 

Teal’c was a hard man to present with an appropriate gift. His needs were few and simple. The SGC gave him food, shelter and clothing.

His team gave him companionship.

The Colonel had presented him with the biggest gifts – his television, VCR and X-Box, all of those without any special occasion in sight.

Along the way they had all shared their choices in music, movies and reading material with him, though Teal’c had certainly started developing his own taste in those things. He was big into science fiction and tabloids, with a fondness for classical music and techno. 

Choosing the right gift had been hard. He would, of course, love the sentiment behind anything they gave him, but Sam had wanted to find _just_ the right thing that would touch him, something he’d truly treasure.

This time, without much time to spend shopping because of all the hours she had been putting in on the Wall, she’d simply done the expedient thing and gotten the gift certificate.

He would understand and appreciate, but she intended to make it up to him later. 

He’d have a good time shopping for new candles, anyway. 

The Colonel’s gift was a surprise, considering how he carped about that television show that he saw as making fun of them.

Still, getting to play SG-1 in a videogame under the guise of a _Wormhole X-treme!_ universe could be fun. She’d have to sit in on that sometime and at least watch Teal’c play with the Colonel. 

Daniel’s present, however, blew her away.

His talents never ceased to amaze her.

She didn’t understand why he seemed so hesitant and embarrassed when he gave Teal’c the book, complete with his own illustrations.

Something truly handmade, from his heart… that was priceless. 

When Jack started to banter with Daniel, Sam took the book and gazed down at the drawing Daniel had done of Teal’c as a samurai.

 It was beautiful and lifelike, full of drama.

She angled the book so her seat mate could see and turned a few more pages, stunned by the thoughtful, gorgeous book, wondering at the time and talent and caring that had gone into making it. 

“Damn, Daniel,” the Colonel said admiringly, “is there anything you _can’t_ do?” 

“Well, of course, Jack,” said Daniel casually. “I can’t tango, drive a tank or give birth. There are _lots_ of things I can’t do.” 

Sam snorted with startled laughter as she had been about to take a sip of her cola, continuing to chuckle as Daniel and the Colonel stared at each other.

They were _fun_ when they were like this. 

“That was a good one, Daniel,” she chuckled. “Give birth. Not exactly something you can learn, though the other two…” 

Jack’s brown eyes turned her way with a silent command to knock off her commentary and she instantly obeyed.

She gave the book back to its new owner and asked to read it when he was finished, then looked back at Daniel, her good humor suddenly vanishing. 

He was sweating in the cool room.

Sam caught a glimpse of his eyes before he pushed his shades back higher on his nose. His pupils, normally twice the size of everyone else’s, were almost completely dilated. He was trembling. 

Before she could ask what was wrong, he was on his feet, making excuses to leave and then dashing out the door. 

Something was up with Daniel. She’d see him like this more often recently, usually late at night when she’d cornered him into helping her with some deadline or other. The later it got, the worse he’d twitched until he had bolted, begging off in favor of his bed or a shower or something.

Suspicions began to rise within her as they discussed the linguist’s odd behavior of late. 

The Colonel’s news about the bruises shocked her.

If someone on the base was picking on Daniel behind the scenes, she’d find out whom and deal with them.

She, Teal’c and the Colonel would take a personal interest in anyone who had issues with their archaeologist.

The three of them made a silent agreement just as the pub’s staff came up to embarrass Teal’c with a birthday limerick. 

Conversation turned to more pleasant things as she nibbled on her cake and ice cream, but Carter couldn’t let go of the idea that someone on the base might be stalking Daniel.

Of course he’d be too proud to admit it but such situations were intolerable, especially if it were military personnel. She knew there were undercurrents of disquiet, factions of military types who believed there was no place on the teams for civilians who might be liabilities in a battle, but she knew firsthand how invaluable those civilians could be, their wits and knowledge often saving the lives of their military teammates. 

This was Dr. Daniel Jackson, for crying out loud, the most famous person at the SGC! He was the one who had opened the Stargate in the first place, a VIP of the first order, and if anyone were treating him badly, they were in need of a _swift_ reorganization of their priorities and some education, which Sam Carter would be only too happy to provide. 

O’Neill paid the bill with his credit card, picking up Daniel’s cash with the intent to give it back to him later. 

Slowly, they made their way toward the sidewalk, lingering for a moment in each other’s company before parting.

She waited for the Colonel to make his announcement and smiled as she thought of the last present waiting for Teal’c in his quarters. She and Janet had searched far and wide for just the right linens, several sets of them, and the perfect, most comfortable bed they could find. This one had been engineered by NASA, a new advance in the field of sleep technology, and it was touted as the most comfortable and healthful bed in existence.

Sam trusted the science behind it. 

Teal’c might never have complained about his Spartan quarters, but she wanted him to have a real _home_ with them. He couldn’t yet live off base, not until the SGC went public, but between her team and their doctor, she fully intended to make his quarters a place he enjoyed, rather than just a space where he stayed during odd moments of down time. 

It was important to her, to everyone at the SGC, for Teal’c to know that he _belonged_ with them.

When the war was over, when he had no more reason to be on Earth, he needed to know that he could stay here if he wanted, to live among them as one of them.

He had earned that many times over. 

She waved fondly and said goodbye, promising to call Teal’c if she needed help finishing up the project. As she strode toward her car, she tried to imagine his reaction to the bed and smiled.

He was going to love that present best of all, she was sure. 

Returning to the base, she signed in, stepped into the new official entry of the SGC for another look, then headed down to her office. 

There was no sign of Siler, no voicemail messages, no emails.

She checked her watch.

 It was nearly 2300 hours already and growing later.

 It would take her a couple of hours, minimum, to get the photos into the frames, cart them up to the eleventh floor and get them hung.

If Siler didn’t come through… 

She phoned the maintenance floor but the night shift hadn’t seen or heard from the Sergeant.  

Sam headed up to her lab and checked one of the projects she had running, talking with the technicians and trying to keep her mind occupied. She stopped by the commissary for some coffee, glancing at her watch every five minutes and trying not to panic. By almost midnight, she returned to her office and saw Siler coming up the hallway toward her. 

Heaving a great sigh of relief, she cleared a spot on her desk for him to lay out the envelopes he had tucked under his arm.

There were dark circles under the man’s eyes and he looked beat, but Siler had come through for them as promised.  

She pulled the biggest portrait out of the first envelope, her whole face lighting up as she stared at it. “Oh, Sergeant, this is just beautiful! This is just so… _Daniel._ Great work! You really captured what this whole program is all about.” 

Siler shook his head and grinned shyly, straightening his glasses. “I just clicked the shutter, Major,” he countered with a note of wonder as he studied that picture with her.

This was the one where Daniel had been remembering his first encounter with the Stargate, the wonder of the miracle shimmering before him.

“The camera caught what was already there, but you’re right. That’s _it_. That’s the essence of the Stargate, right there in those eyes.” 

Gently, she laid the photo down and shook Siler’s hand. “I was so afraid we’d miss our deadline but there should be just enough time to get it done now. You saved the day, Sergeant.” 

Patting him on the shoulder, she pulled back and saw him smile. “It was my pleasure, Major.”

He cleared his throat. “There are some… uh… extra prints in there for SG-1. Some of the ones that weren’t appropriate for official use might be ones you guys want to keep for yourselves.”

He nodded toward a smaller envelope. 

Curiosity wouldn’t wait. She pulled the pictures out and laughed. There were the four of them, hamming it up, teasing each other, all four with big smiles – even Teal’c!

“These are priceless,” she sighed. “Thanks, I _love_ them! And I know the guys will, too. Even the Colonel.” 

Siler chuckled. “I hope so. My only other option was to use them for blackmail, but I figured that would just get me _dead_.” 

She nodded. “Yeah. This is the safest way to hide the evidence that the Colonel plays like a six-year-old. Not that everybody here doesn’t already _know_ that, but he likes to pretend we don’t.” 

He slipped away then, leaving her to look at the rest of the photos, lay them all out in order and start placing them in frames.

Once that was accomplished, she took a moment to just look at the big one, that magnificent portrait of an awestruck Daniel Jackson.

It was fitting that this should be the biggest photo on the wall, the one that said everything about what they wanted to accomplish at the SGC.  

With a sigh, she stacked the others on top of it, loaded the frames in three stacks on top of a small cart she’d borrowed from Supply, and headed for the elevator.

During the ride she glanced at the top three photos, one of Daniel on a camel that had been copied months earlier from the original that had once been in his office.

She’d taken that one home after Kelowna and had recently offered to give it back, but Daniel assured her that it was all right with him if she kept it.  

That photo had been taken of him as a very young man, long before he ever heard of the Stargate.

Since she hadn’t had any early photos of him, that was the one she had chosen to use for his Abydos mission picture.

Beneath it was a small brass plaque giving his name, the planet designation and name, followed by the date of his death from a staff blast meant for Colonel O’Neill. 

Robert Rothman’s personal effects yielded a single photograph of Daniel when he still had his long hair, covered by a bandana but curling up at the nape of his neck. That was the one she used for P3X-774, when Apophis had killed him and most of the rest of the team, and they had consequently been resurrected by the Nox.

In all, there were a stunning _seven_ photographs of Daniel in the set; six for actual entries and the seventh as a commemorative portrait. 

“Six times, Daniel,” she said aloud in the quiet of the elevator car. “Wow.” 

She had no clue how he would react, but that hadn’t been a factor when she started work on the Wall. He hadn’t been around to give an opinion, and besides, it wasn’t just for him anyway.

If he disapproved it was his business. He’d earned every photograph up on that wall, far more than anyone else on _any_ team.

No, this wasn’t for Daniel. This was for _all_ of them, for everyone who walked the halls of the SGC, whether they went off world or not.  

A few had died there on the base during the Replicator attack. All of those featured hadn’t necessarily been first contact people, yet each man and woman pictured on the Wall had earned their place. They had made the ultimate sacrifice for their world, for the human race, and for their comrades in arms at Stargate Command. 

They should never be forgotten for that.  

The world they had served would not know for a long time the truth of their heroism, but one day, she knew, visitors would fill the halls of this facility, going on tours to see the old Stargate and hear tales about the secret adventures of these brave few. They would see this wall and look at all the faces and their hearts would swell with pride and tighten with grief.

She smiled as the elevator doors parted, blinked the tears from her eyes and pushed the cart across the carpeted floor, giving a nod to the SF on duty at the security station, and went past the partitions into the beautiful new foyer. 

A stepladder was still in place against the back wall, waiting for the last entries.

Sam was tired but she shrugged it off, making the multitude of trips up and down the ladder, moving it to the next empty spot, each row arranged in chronological order from the first mission to the most recent ones.

Last of all were the three casualties from SG-12, killed in a Jaffa attack on P77-X2Y. 

The plaques with their names would come later, but for now, their faces were nestled among the lost… and some of the found… in the SGC’s newest place of honor. 

Finished at last, she folded up the ladder and carried it out into the hallway, leaning it against the corridor wall.

Then she stepped back into the huge room, stood in the center where posh new furniture would soon be placed, and took it all in for a moment.

Tears filled her eyes as she took her time with each and every face, recounting their names and circumstances in the quiet of her mind.

A lump rose in her throat and she did not try to dislodge it. 

 _So many,_ she told herself. Far too many, and she knew these ranks would swell through the years. The cause was worthy, but the toll… 

She let her eyes rove over the whole room, from the marble appointed desk with its gleaming brass fixtures to the enameled steel SGC logo gracing its front. Two large flags stood behind the desk, flanking the elegant chair where an SF in dress uniform would sit throughout each shift, greeting dignitaries, signing people in and out and keeping watch over the first point of entry to their secret world belowground. 

The intricate Air Force logo was dyed into the blue carpet in the center of the room against a navy field in a large square. The outer edges of the square, including the wider space out in the corridor stretching between the elevators, was a lighter shade of blue, designed as a border that would draw the eye to the circular seal at center.

 It was an elegant, imposing room, grand without being overpowering, yet dignified and beautiful. 

“Never forget,” she said aloud.

Drawing herself up to her full height, squaring her shoulders, she raised her right hand to her brow in a crisp salute and held it for a moment as her gaze swept the photos one more time. S

he let her hand down slowly and, with a weary sigh, slipped it into the pants pocket of her fatigues. 

Moving to the desk, she reached for the phone and dialed a number.

“Sir? It’s done. Can’t wait for you to see it… Yes, sir. See you tomorrow, 0800 sharp.”

She smiled as she hung up, stepped back for one more glance, then pivoted on her heel and grabbed the folded ladder with one hand, carrying it out with her.

She smiled at the SF on duty. “Tomorrow you get the _comfy_ chair, Lieutenant Norris,” she told him. 

He grinned back. “Yes, ma’am. Not that I need one, but…”

He hesitated, his expression sobering. “You did a helluva thing, Major Carter. Thank you.” 

She shook her head. “No.” Nodding toward the partitions, she said, “Thank them.” 

He just nodded in agreement, grief in his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I think we all do.” 

“G’night, Lieutenant. See you at 1400 hours for the big event.”

She started toward the elevator, then turned, balancing the ladder on one shoulder. “Hey, has Daniel signed back in yet?” 

Norris nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am. He and Teal’c left together, but Doctor Jackson came back alone about an hour ago. Teal’c arrived a little while later.” 

“Okay, just checking. He wasn’t feeling well earlier.”

That sounded lame, but it was the only thing she could think of to say to the soldier. “Did he look all right?” 

The soldier grinned and shook his head. “Except that he was wearing his shades and I know it’s night outside, yes, ma’am.” 

She thought about Daniel all the way back to Supply, where she turned in the ladder, comforting herself with the fact that the team would handle things as a unit, and whatever was bothering Daniel would be taken care of once the ceremony was over.  

Heading back to her office, she took a moment to add a little water and plant food to her forget-me-not, organize her desk for the following morning, and then headed for the locker room to change before going home.

 Just as she stopped at the desk on Level 11, she spotted the General bending over to sign out. 

Hammond smiled at her.  

She added her signature to the registry, then followed the General as he gestured her into the new foyer. 

“Superb job, Major,” he congratulated her warmly as he gazed around the room, hands clasped loosely behind his back. 

Sam beamed with pride. “Thank you, sir. It turned out way better than I imagined.” 

“I think Doctor Jackson will be pleased… once he gets over the shock.” He patted her shoulder. “This took a great deal of perseverance to bring about, not to mention a tremendous amount of effort.” 

“I had a lot of help, sir,” she admitted. “ _Everybody_ wanted to be a part of this. It was an honor for me to be allowed to carry it out. And sometimes, when we’re lucky, they come back.”

She glanced at him, suddenly cognizant of the time. “You’re here awfully late, General.” 

He nodded, not taking his eyes off the Wall.

“Just waiting to see if you needed any more help, Major, but you’ve taken care of everything and finished on schedule.”

His voice deepened with emotion. “I think that once the powers that be get a look at this, it’ll have a significant impact on how they think of us in the future. They’ll know our people will be looking at this every day and constantly be reminded of the price of our freedom.”

He sighed. “I just wish more people could see what we do and understand.” 

“They will, sir,” she promised. “One day.” 

She studied the profile of the man beside her, how moved he was by this display, and knew that he would never take a single face on that Wall for granted.

Like her, he knew every name, every circumstance of each casualty.

They were, in some small way, his children, though some of them he had never even met, lost before he took command of the SGC from General West. 

Soon, their names and faces would be familiar to everyone in the program. 

Her eyes dropped down to the marble desk and she smiled, promising herself to come in very early.

There was a spot on the far left side of the desk that would be perfect for a small lamp and a little potted plant.

Before she left she would move her flower there, a tiny little reminder of life up top to counter the lightless, windowless underground.

It was the perfect place for that flower, after all, just where a forget-me-not ought to be, among the eternally remembered. 

She wished Hammond a good evening, set up the plant and headed for the parking lot, climbing wearily into her Volvo with a yawn.

She switched on the radio for company as she headed for home, pulling out onto Highway 115, heading north. It was a short drive to her Rockrimmon neighborhood, but it was very late and she turned the volume way up to keep her awake as she drove. 

 _“In a late-breaking story, KRCC news is reporting live from Manitou Springs,”_ the newscaster said breathlessly. _“We are on the scene in a quiet neighborhood where the Man in Black, Colorado Springs’ very own ninja crime fighter, has struck again.”_  

Sam crossed her fingers, hoping the guy was okay.  

_“Tonight, our hero has apparently foiled an alleged stalker, saving the lives of a young couple and their small child from almost certain death…”_

Sam’s heart beat faster and she gripped the steering wheel as she listened to the excited reporter recount the sketchy details of the rescue. She breathed easier when she heard that the man had gotten away clean once again, but worried that he had apparently been shot by the “alleged” perp.

If the Man in Black showed up at any of the local emergency rooms, the police would be all over him. 

She really hoped he wouldn’t be caught and would take this opportunity to fade into the woodwork. This was a wake-up call for the mysterious hero, time to hang up the biker helmet and retire.

She just hoped he listened, for his own sake. 

Turning into her driveway at last, she shut off her car, went into the house and started getting ready for bed.

Fifteen minutes later, she slipped under the covers and reached over to the lamp on her nightstand. Sitting beneath it was that photo of Daniel on the camel in Egypt.

She noticed he was wearing a sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and wondered what the hell he was doing in the _desert_ in a _sweater?_  

She studied him, that defiant expression on his face, and wondered what he’d been thinking when that photo had been taken.

Maybe he’d just been hot in the sweater. Maybe it was laundry day and he had nothing else to wear. Maybe his professor had trashed his theories or tried to dissuade him from his radical ideas about aliens in the ancient world.

Whatever the reason for that sour expression, she hoped that the smiles she’d been seeing on his face since he descended would develop into a habit because there hadn’t been enough of them lately. 

Daniel deserved happiness. He’d lost so much, so many people whom he had loved, given up his career, his very _existence._ He was due some recognition for his efforts, and tomorrow he would get a small measure of it. 

She turned off the lamp and smiled up at the ceiling in the darkness. 

Tomorrow he would see just how special he was to his family at the SGC, and to his country as well. 

She closed her eyes and slept, filled with peace and satisfaction.

 

**In Memoriam**

**Captain Samantha Carter**

**P3X-774 Nox Homeworld**

**12 September 1997**

**In Memoriam**

**Major Samantha Carter**

**SGC Base**

**9 February 2001**

Next Chapters:

A Day in the Life, Part III: Jack’s Day: A Man of Honor

A Day in the Life, Part IV: Daniel’s Day: The Man in Black

Night Watch, Part I and II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * If you caught Sam's reference to the "other Angus" at the team birthday dinner, I had it in my mind that she dated Angus MacGyver while she worked at the Pentagon. :-D


	3. A Day in the Life of Jack: A Man of Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is beginning to worry about Daniel: the unexplained bruising, lack of sleep and uncanny skill in the training room.

Opening his eyes to the darkened room, Jack stared at the ceiling for a while before turning to look at the clock beside the bed.

With a heavy sigh, he reached over and switched off the alarm, still twenty minutes from ringing.

He got up with a groan, his body reminding him how many campaigns he’d been through, how the years were catching up to him.

Soon he’d find it necessary to retire, but there were things to be done yet, people to protect.

He arched his back and heard it pop and crackle all the way up. 

“Teal’c’s birthday,” he reminded himself aloud, his voice croaking from a night of disuse. “Party tonight. Yay.” 

He didn’t feel much like partying but then he wasn’t really awake yet, either. His sleepy mind skipped over the plans for the day – team breakfast, photos, administrative meetings and then the birthday shindig. He could make it through that kind of day just fine, maybe even without coffee. 

Which made him think of Daniel.

Back from the dead, still not all there in the memory department, but his character was unchanged.

Jack stopped walking, staring down at the floor for a second.

That wasn’t quite true, though. 

The resurrected Doctor Jackson _was_ different, in some intangible way. Quicker with a smile than just before he… died. More intense but less overtly passionate. The passion was still there, just… _leashed_ somehow. He was quieter, calmer, more accepting of things that used to notch his voice up in volume and send his hands into wild flails of frustration. He just seemed… more grown up. Older and wiser, perhaps. 

Lately, though, the man had seemed on edge. Jumpy and strung a little too tight. Pushing himself too hard, especially with the workouts they’d been doing. 

Jack sensed there was more to it than that but Daniel wasn’t talking.

The young man spent most of his off time alone or with Teal’c, meditating until all hours of the night or surfing the Internet with his Jaffa shadow peering over his shoulder. Those two had become almost inseparable over the last couple of months, since bringing Brata’c and Rya’c home safely. 

He turned on the hot water in the shower, letting it heat up while he peeled off his T-shirt and sweats. Still weary, he adjusted the temperature of the water and climbed in, letting the spray soak him and run down his chest for a while before engaging in his efficient bathing routine. The steam cleared his head a little, and by the time he was groomed and dressed, he was mentally halfway through his day, all the important things planned out in detail long ago. 

Padding downstairs, he stopped in the living room long enough to drop his socks and shoes by the sofa and went into the kitchen to start the coffee brewing. While that was underway, he returned to the sofa to put on his footwear, then back to the kitchen for a hot cup of coffee. Carrying the mug with him to the living room, he set it down on the coffee table and switched on the overhead lights. 

It was still dark outside, still early. The light from the kitchen gave enough illumination that he could see the cardboard box sitting on the coffee table in the living room, but he wanted one last look and needed good light for that. He pulled the box closer and reverently lifted the flaps, peering down inside at the neat rows of small dark blue velvet boxes.

In the middle were other boxes wrapped in blue tissue. 

Reaching carefully inside, he lifted the center box out, laid it on his lap and unfolded the tissue. Inside it was a handmade teak shadowbox, the front covered with a piece of beveled glass. On a long blue ribbon edged in white, a gold medal dangled. The five-pointed star at its center was enameled in white, backed by a red pentagon. At the points of the star, five gold eagles spread their wings, and within the star’s heart lay a blue circle emblazoned with thirteen tiny gold stars, representing the original colonies of America.

This was the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest civilian citation ever awarded to a citizen of the United States. Originally awarded by President Truman to those who had made significant contributions during WWII. President Kennedy had revived the medal’s use to honor distinguished civilian service in peacetime.

This one would be off the books.  

The Medal of Freedom winners were publicly acclaimed, celebrated in the press for their heroism or outstanding contributions to their country.

This one, because of the secrecy of Area 52, was listed with an employee number followed by the initials “SGC.”

One day, this award would be made public… but not today. 

Jack couldn’t touch the medal, sealed as it was in a shadowbox. Through the glass surface he could see it, along with the engraved brass plate mounted on the white velvet background to which the medal was fastened. The shadowbox was beautiful, worth every penny he’d paid for it, as were all the others Uncle Sam had purchased for this occasion.

 Jack had wanted something special for this particular medal to make it stand out from the handful of others in the cardboard box, so he’d commissioned a handmade display case for it. 

This medal belonged to Daniel Jackson. 

O’Neill sighed again, wondering not for the first time how the cosmic clock worked.

This award had been delivered posthumously, given to Jack personally by the President himself in response to a letter Jack had written to the Pentagon. Bureaucracy moved slowly, but in this instance the timing was perfect.

He rubbed his fingers over the glass fondly and felt his eyes burning. He blinked to clear them, wiped off the finger streaks and carefully folded the tissue back over his prize. He was as proud of this as he was of his own Medal of Honor, also nestled somewhere inside that cardboard box.

Slipping it back inside the carton, he closed the flaps, took a sip of coffee and stood, carrying the cup with him. 

Ambling over to the fireplace, he let his eyes rove over the collection of awards, medals and commendations so prominently on display, drinking his coffee as he regarded each one.

This was his pride and joy, his proof of a life well spent and of the depth of his patriotism. Each and every medal on display was testimony to the fact that Jack O’Neill served his country; that he was a good soldier; that he had put his own life on the line for God and Country, for team and unit, time and time again. It was recognition of his character, of his valor, of his dedication and patriotism. 

Today he could be proud of those emblems again.

For a little over a year he hadn’t been able to stomach looking at them. Shortly after Daniel’s ascension, Jack had boxed them all up and put them in the attic, leaving only pictures of his team and his son on the mantle. Centered among them had been a few photographs he’d taken from Daniel’s office: a portrait of Sha’re; a team photo showing them all standing in a sunlit meadow; and most precious of all, a family photo of six-year-old Danny with proud parents, Melburn and Claire Jackson, taken at a dig in Italy.

Jack had kept that one after he, Teal’c and Carter had cleaned out Daniel’s apartment and disposed of his possessions. 

The most personal things, like those photographs, had been kept by his teammates as mementos. Most of them had been given back to the man when he came home to them. Sha’re’s picture, Jack had noticed, ended up in Teal’c’s quarters.

He hadn’t asked about that, figuring it was none of his business, something personal between Daniel and Teal’c. 

So much of Daniel’s life was gone, and so little of it had been replaced to help him feel more connected, like he belonged there.

Maybe the medal and the memorial wall could help make up for that.

Daniel needed to know how much he was valued by those around him. 

Tomorrow the SGC would gather in acknowledgment of the sacrifices made by those who served in the program on behalf of the human race. Only a small handful of people on the planet would be aware of it, but one day, Jack knew, that memorial would be made public. It would create a stir, as it well should.

And _no one_ should ever forget those who gave their all. 

Jack headed into the kitchen for the other, smaller box sitting on the dining table beside a roll of Scooby Doo wrapping paper, carefully cut off the proper amount from the roll and began to fold the paper over the box. He didn’t do this very often anymore, but liked for the gifts he presented to look nice and neat, with perfect square corners and neatly taped closures, finished off with ribbons and bows.

“Just like making a bed,” he mentioned to the empty room.

When he was sure the wrapping job would pass muster, he returned to the living room and set the present on top of the cardboard box full of medals, gathered his keys and wallet and left for the base. 

The Walls were Carter’s babies, and Jack couldn’t have been more proud of her for not only conceiving the idea, but following it through to completion.

She had campaigned for it with the SGC administration and taken her cause all the way to Washington, garnering the necessary support, getting the funding, arranging for special log books to be kept for the medals and commendations awarded. She had worked tirelessly on the project for the better part of a year, and now, on this auspicious date, it was all coming together.

These were the last pieces, and once the photos were printed and slipped into their frames, it would be complete. 

The photo shoot was scheduled for shortly after breakfast and all required personnel had been informed to be there or incur his wrath.

Sergeant Siler promised the color prints would be ready by the end of the shift and Jack was counting on that. If there were any delays, heads would roll, starting with Siler’s, but Jack had every confidence that everything would come off without a hitch. 

He climbed into his truck, started the engine and switched on the radio while the truck warmed up.

In the dark quiet, he punched the pre-set station buttons looking for traffic and weather reports. Landing on one, he backed out of the driveway and into the street, easing away from home before any of the neighbors had even risen to start their day.

 

 _“In other news, the Colorado Springs ninja has made yet another mysterious appearance at a crime in progress,”_ the radio announcer said brightly. _“The unknown hero apparently came in through the window of a third floor apartment in time to stop an intruder who had allegedly broken into the apartment to assault a woman sleeping in her bed. The Man in Black managed to pull the alleged attacker off the woman and restrain him, ordering the woman to call the police while our hero immobilized the alleged attacker.”_

 

With a sigh, Jack turned onto the highway, shaking his head.

 Whoever the ninja guy was, he was going to get himself killed.

“Idiot,” Jack rasped, but there was also a little twinge of respect mixed in with that assessment.

He swung the truck easily into the fast lane as the newscaster droned on in the quiet.

  

_“By the time police arrived, the Man in Black had pulled his standard disappearing act and was nowhere to be found. Police are still uncertain how this masked avenger locates crimes in progress, but they are anxious to talk with him. The Springs seems to be breathing a sigh of relief with the shadow of this unknown hero watching over us. However he manages this feat, many citizens feel safer knowing he’s out there somewhere, our own personal superhero, come to life. The police, however, feel that this mysterious man’s luck may soon run out—“_

 

Pushing another button, Jack turned on the local NPR station for some classical music. In minutes he had made his way to the base, parked and signed in, then headed straight for the commissary. Pausing for a moment in the doorway, he scanned the seated personnel in search of his teammates, and found Daniel and Teal’c bent over their plates in quiet conversation. 

Jack couldn’t help but notice how tired Daniel looked and that he had his shades on again, most likely indicating another migraine.

Maybe it was time he put a word in Doc Fraiser’s ear and had the little Napoleon drag their archaeologist down to the infirmary for a good once-over.

At least he was eating, which was always a good sign. Then again, he usually remembered to do breakfast. It was the other meals he forgot on a regular basis. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Jack gathered his courage and let fly with his horrific version of the birthday song. Grimaces on all the faces suddenly staring up at him in stunned disbelief confirmed the fact that he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but this was for Teal’c. Jack would much rather serenade his teammate there in the commissary than in a public restaurant, where the real birthday celebration would later be held. 

The Jaffa stood up partway through the song and surveyed the room with a threatening glare, shutting people up wherever he looked.

Jack _loved_ how he could do that; intimidate people with just a look.

By the time the song was done, only Jack and Daniel were still singing.

He smiled as he stopped by the table to greet the birthday boy, then headed for the chow line. 

Moments later, Carter breezed in and sat down with her ever-present blue Jell-O, accompanied by a strawberry yogurt and a banana. Then they argued about where they’d be having dinner until Teal’c confirmed the pub was, indeed, his choice.

Jack could already taste that ribeye, marinated in Irish whisky and flame broiled to perfection. 

He shoveled in his eggs and bacon, listening as Daniel teased Carter about his birthday serenade. He leaned back in his seat and gave them both the full Colonel glare, right down his nose.

Only they didn’t look, so he told the younger man to cut it out. 

Returning to his breakfast, he speared a piece of sliced strawberry with his fork. “So, is Siler ready upstairs? We gonna get this show on the road today?” 

Sam nodded, her mouth full. 

Jack swallowed the strawberry he’d barely chewed.

“Is everybody ready for their close-ups? I am. Conditioned, exfoliated and everything.” 

“Yes, sir. I put my things in the studio just now,” Carter agreed after swallowing a mouthful of yogurt. “I think I should’ve had a haircut but there wasn’t time.”

Her left hand smoothed nervously at her nape, obviously checking the length against her collar. 

Jack stared obliquely at her. “You have _hair_ , Major?” He blinked. “If it were purple or you were suddenly bald, I’d probably notice. You look fine.” 

She flashed him a bemused smile. “I’ll get it cut tomorrow on my way in.” She scooped up another mouthful of gelatin and shook her head in wonder. 

“I’m just about done with my mission prep for next week, so be getting your gear together,” he reminded them, already thinking ahead to the scheduled trip off-world to PX7-44Niner.

That one was going to be winter gear all the way, with at least a week planned to knock around the ice towers sculpted into the white landscape. “Prepare to freeze your asses off, kids, and I don’t wanna hear any complaining.”

He sighed. If only there were hills and snow skis, maybe with a chair lift to take the work out of getting back uphill, he might be able to have a little fun on that planet, but fun was never on the off-world agenda. 

“I hate snow,” Daniel moaned. “It’s so damn _cold_.” 

“Well, duh,” Jack shot back. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

Carter grinned and took a bite of her banana. 

Teal’c seemed to be ignoring them all in favor of the dwindling mountain of food on his plate. 

Jack sighed. “Having a couple weeks off with nobody broken or sick has been nice, but we knew it wouldn’t last.” 

“That’s been quite a change,” Daniel agreed. “Everybody healthy and sitting at our desks all day. I’m practically bored to tears.” 

Jack reminded his younger teammate about offers to engage in social activities, all of which had gone down in flames. O’Neill steered the conversation back to work while he watched Daniel draw on his plate.  

The man really needed to get a life, something besides work that might get him out of the mountain and let him have a little fun. Jack wondered if Daniel actually _understood_ the concept of fun and smiled as he remembered Jell-O wrestling.

He shot a glance up to the Jaffa and made a mental note to check out that place and see if they were still holding the same events.

If they were, he and Teal’c would shortly be taking their scholarly friend out for a little mindless entertainment soon. 

Daniel had been practically monosyllabic for a good two hours following that first time. The first half hour, he couldn’t actually use words and just made inarticulate throat noises. 

“I shall take my leave and adjourn to the studio,” Teal’c announced, wiping his lips on a napkin. “I will see you all there shortly.”

He stood, bowed slightly, and took his tray to the disposal window. 

“See ya, T,” Jack called, stuffing his mouth with another bite of buttered toast and eggs.

“Carter, have you got those test results on that alien doohickey we brought back from…”

He drew a blank on the planet designation and stopped chewing, searching his mind for it. 

“Two-three-Y,” she supplied instantly. “Yes, sir. The technicians finished the validation study during last night’s shift and I’ll be reviewing the data this afternoon. I’ll get the report written up and on your desk by the end of the day, providing there are no anomalies that need additional study.” 

“Good. I probably won’t understand a word of it, but at least I’ll be able to tell General Hammond I’ve seen it.”

He turned to the man at his left. “Daniel, you fallin’ asleep, there?” 

The younger man was leaning on his left hand, his body at a strong leftward tilt, the flesh of his face pulled out of shape by the heel of his hand so that his mouth was a crooked slash across his face and he could only see out of his right eye through the dark lenses.

Daniel sighed deeply. “No, just thinking.” He put his fork down and straightened up, wincing at the movement and issuing a soft groan.

He stared down at his empty plate covered in syrup doodles.  

“You’re kinda distracted there, Daniel. Somethin’ wrong? I mean, besides the headache.”

Jack stuffed the last bite of toast into his mouth and started stacking his utensils onto his plate as he chewed. 

“I’m fine,” Daniel answered automatically. Listlessly. He yawned and made no attempt to cover his mouth with his hand. Then he stretched his eyes wide, blinked several times, straightened and took a deep breath.

He seemed to wake up a little more. 

“Off we go,” Jack announced, picking up his tray and leading the charge to the photo studio on Level 17. 

As they stepped out of the elevator, Jack glanced at Daniel’s black T-shirt and green fatigue pants. “Aren’t you short a few threads? And your regular glasses. You’ll need those. The coolness of the shades isn’t necessary for these portrait shots.” 

They rounded the corner of the doorway with Daniel frowning in thought.

His eyebrows lifted and he snapped his fingers.

“I forgot my jacket!” he blurted, pivoted on his heel and headed back to the elevator. 

Jack and the Carter eased quietly into the studio, watching Siler working with Teal’c.

It never ceased to be a source of pride to have a man like that on his team. Teal’c was the perfect warrior: physically intimidating, unflappable and loyal to a fault. He was also fun, in his own deadpan way, allowing Jack to talk to his heart’s content or not say a word as the mood struck, going along with whatever hare-brained activity Jack planned without complaint and just generally being good company. Teal’c never put on airs or treated him like anything other than his commanding officer and brother-in-arms, and that was priceless.

Jack had few friends like that, people who took him at face value and knew the riches that lay beneath the surface.

Only a handful of people ever got to see the _real_ Jack O’Neill, and the rest of them were on his team as well. 

He teased the big guy all through the shoot, eventually realizing that Daniel seemed to be MIA.

Just when he thought he ought to start looking for the younger man, he turned to see Daniel standing in the doorway of the multi-purpose room, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot, staring at the lights and the backdrop, watching Sergeant Siler work the light meter with Carter as his new model. Daniel eyed the clothing rack nearby where Jack’s Class A’s hung, still in their dry cleaning wrap, along with several other outfits, enough for twenty people. 

Jack spied the younger man, now sporting his regular frames, and called him over to where he and Teal’c stood watching. 

“Hi, Daniel,” Sam called, waving a little. “What took you so long?” 

“I had to go to the locker room for my fatigue jacket and my quarters for my glasses,” replied Daniel nervously. “What’s with all the clothes? And why is Teal’c in his armor?”

His eyes swept up and down the tall Jaffa, gleaming in his silvery armor, staff weapon held familiarly in his right hand. 

Teal’c raised an eyebrow. “Did you not read the memo, DanielJackson? These portraits are to show us in several aspects. A variety of costumes will be necessary to reveal all our many facets.” 

Daniel glanced down at himself. “This and my blue robes from Vis Uban are all I have. You guys gave away all my clothes after I di—asc--  left. I bought a pair of jeans and some sweaters, but that’s the extent of my wardrobe for the moment. I’ve hardly been off the base in the last couple of months.” 

“Which will shortly be addressed,” Jack reminded him with a nudge of his elbow and the ghost of a smile.

“Party at 1900 hours. Be there or I’ll hunt you down and drag you kicking and screaming away from your desk.”

He bounced on his toes a little and loosed a playful smile. 

“I know. I wouldn’t miss Teal’c’s birthday party, Jack.”

Daniel smiled up at the tallest man in their group and received an elegant nod of approval.

The scholar’s smile faded as he regarded the clothing rack again. “But like I said, all I’ve got is fatigues. Should I get my BDUs? What about my robes?” 

“Yeah, bring whatcha got ‘cause we’re gonna do casual and full length group shots, too. Robes, jeans, the whole nine yards.”

Jack noted Daniel’s discomfiture and knew that the younger man didn’t like to have his picture taken. O’Neill had heard Carter discuss that with Daniel once when she complained about not having any pictures of him to put with her other family and team photos.

At every opportunity thereafter, when she had asked Daniel to pose with her or the others on the team, Daniel dutifully had not complained. He didn’t always smile on cue but there were a few shots where the younger man was positively beaming.

Those were Carter’s favorites, ones she kept on her desk and at home. 

Jack had been a little envious of some of those photos after Daniel ascended and had intended to ask for copies but never done it.

They were her photographs.

Jack could look at them and remember Daniel whenever he visited her office or on the rare occasions when he and Teal’c were at her home. 

These, however, were for a wholly different purpose.

Jack watched Daniel’s back as he hurried away, leading with his head as he always did when he walked with his mind focused on a single objective.

When Daniel was out of sight, Jack turned to watch Siler again, flashing the umbrella lights and checking something with a little thingamabob Carter was holding.

He and Teal’c talked quietly for a moment, until he began to grow impatient. 

“You gonna get started sometime today, Siler?” Jack nudged. 

“Yes, sir,” the Sergeant shot back without looking up. “Ready to start now.”

He took the gadget from Carter and stepped back. “Okay, Major, let’s do a three-quarter pose looking up and to my left.” He held his left hand up in the air, and her eyes went to it.

Siler moved around until he had her head at the proper angle, then pushed a plunger on a long cord attached to his camera, and all the lights flashed at once. “Nice. Okay, one more, then get your BDU jacket and put that on.” 

“No flag in the background, Sergeant?” Jack asked, taking note of the wide roll of green paper that formed their backdrop. “I thought these were supposed to be formal portraits.” 

Another flash went off and Carter got up to get her jacket.

“He’ll be digitally inserting the backgrounds according to what shots he needs,” she told him. “Some will have the Stargate for a background with an American flag furling in place of the event horizon. Some will have the standard flag at parade rest, others—“ 

“As long as the flags are _there_ ,” Jack cut in, “I don’t care how they get there. I just thought this looked kind of… naked. Unpatriotic. There should be flags.” 

The Major grinned and the flashes went off, capturing that moment.

“Yes, sir, there will be. Green screens help the photographer drop in pre-selected backgrounds. They’re also used in movies for special effects, things blowing up, space ships and such.” 

Frowning, Jack cocked his head back, drawing his brows together to appear confused. “You mean, they don’t actually film _Wormhole X-treme_ in _space?_ Huh. Imagine that.” 

Teal’c raised an eyebrow. Carter laughed. Siler took a picture of Carter laughing. 

Jack suspected the Sergeant might have a thing for the pretty Major. 

“Okay, Class A’s next after this, Major,” Siler called. 

Sam took her BDU jacket off the rack and when that shot was done, she snagged her dress blues and retreated behind a dressing screen set up just for that purpose. 

“Hey, did you guys hear about the Man in Black?” asked Siler as he adjusted the umbrellas slightly. “Made another appearance last night.” 

“He’s gonna get himself killed, stupid do-gooder,” Jack rasped.

He leaned way over to the left, pretending to sneak a peek behind the privacy screen.

Teal’c’s hand gently caught at his jacket sleeve and pulled him upright again just as Daniel returned from the locker room.

Jackson hung up his meager stock of clothing on the rack and Siler sat him down on the stool while they waited for Sam. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Still, he’s helping, out there. Saved a woman’s life.” 

“Who did?” asked Daniel, trying to get comfortable. 

“The Man in Black.” 

“Who’s that?” His heavy brows scrunched together in confusion. 

“Some ninja wanna-be,” Jack explained. “Don’t you listen to the news, Danny-boy?” 

Daniel cocked his head with an impatient sigh. “No _radio,_ Jack. No _car_ with a radio and no _TV._ Remember?” 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. The guy’s a one-man crime stopper, right here in the Springs. The press likes him but the cops aren’t too thrilled about the whole vigilante deal. He’s showin’ ‘em  up, making them look bad. If _he_ can get to the crimes in progress, why can’t the police? That’s what the press is sayin’, anyway.” 

“Does he wear some kind of costume?” Daniel asked, obviously intrigued by this idea.  

“He does not,” Teal’c assured him. “He merely dresses in black and wears a motorcycle helmet or mask that obscures his face, thus ensuring that he cannot be identified. He is a clever man and a great warrior.” 

“He’s a _nutcase,_ is what he is,” Jack argued vehemently. “Certifiable.” 

Daniel frowned, glaring at Jack. “If he’s dangerous, the police will catch him eventually.”

He shrugged, obviously thinking. “Unless he _is_ a cop and they’re trying to find a way around regulations by having one of their own bag the bad guys in ways they can’t.” 

“That is an interesting theory, DanielJackson,” the Jaffa rumbled. “I do not believe I have heard it mentioned. Perhaps we should do some research on the Man in Black later this evening.” 

“As long as you’re not late for dinner, T,” Jack cut in, patting the taller man on the shoulder.

He sighed. “It’s getting bad when the Springs has its own tabloid superhero running around in tights.” 

“Tights?” asked Siler. “I haven’t heard that.” 

“I’m just sayin’. If he’s doin’ the Batman thing, he probably wears ‘em.” Jack shrugged. “Take pictures, Siler. We haven’t got all day, here.”

He waved at the subject on the stool impatiently. 

“Do you want your glasses on or off?” Siler asked Daniel, fiddling with the camera. 

“Both,” said Jack. 

Daniel cast a confused gaze his way. 

“If we get reflections on the lenses, we’ll have backups,” Jack clarified. 

Those eyebrows lifted in acquiescence, and Daniel waited to be posed. 

It seemed hours had passed before they got to Jack’s portraits, followed by the team shots, which Jack knew were the last on the list.

Aside from some horsing around – which Siler captured neatly on film – those went quickly and Teal’c disappeared to start his workout in the gym.

Jack whispered in Siler’s ear and he nodded, waiting patiently by the camera.

Carter caught the look in his eye and headed for the garment rack. 

“There’s one more shot Carter wants,” Jack told Daniel, nodding at the Major. “Go get that black garment bag she’s holding and take it over yonder.”

He nodded toward the privacy screen, his eyes twinkling. “Get a move on, too. I’ve got important Colonel things to do.” 

“What is it?” Daniel just stared at the bag. 

_“Daniellllll.”_

The impatient tone of voice was answer enough.  

He watched Daniel stride over to the garment rack and unzip the bag where it hung on Carter’s fingers, peeling the opaque wrapper off. Beneath it, a pale gray-blue silk suit hung over an azure blue shirt, just the color of Daniel’s eyes. Draped across the neck was a navy blue tie, pinned with a tie-tac in the shape of silver wings. 

There was wonder and surprise in Daniel’s expression as he studied the new clothes.

He glanced at Sam, a question in his eyes.  

Sam smiled warmly at him. “Like you said, we gave away all your clothes. We thought you should have a nice suit for your formal portrait, so we took up a collection. Janet and I picked it out. There are dress shoes and socks to match in the box under the garment rack. You won’t need ‘em for the portrait but you will when you wear your new suit tomorrow for the official inspection.” 

All the memos relating to the ceremony the next day referred to it as a formal inspection, just so it would be a surprise for Daniel, but everybody else on the base knew what was really going to take place: the dedication of the Littlefield Wall of Honor and the Jackson Memorial Wall, along with the presentation of the medals to their recipients.

It was a big day for the whole base and Daniel was still clueless. 

“It’s beautiful, Sam. Wow! I can’t believe you guys did this for me. This is great.”

His eyes were wide and blinking and his voice was very soft and small when he added, “Thank you.” Daniel’s hands touched the cloth reverently, rubbing the lapel between thumb and fingers, smoothing down the front.

He took it from her and pulled it close to his chest, almost hugging it as he walked to the changing area. 

Carter turned to her C.O. with a knowing grin. “I think he liked it, sir.” 

“You gals have good taste,” he answered with a nod, and turned his attention to the photographer.

“Just do him up good in this one, Siler. This is the one that counts.”

He held up his hands, indicating the size of the portrait, then gave the Sergeant a thumbs-up. 

“Will do, sir.” 

Jack ambled close and peered over Siler’s shoulder to see what he was doing.

The Sergeant shot him a questioning look, and Jack decided he’d played curious little boy long enough and backed off before he really got in the way.

He stayed long enough to see Daniel emerge, walking slowly and looking down at himself in delight.

His fingers brushed the sleeve, enjoying the tactile sensations of the silk against his skin. 

His tie was crooked, though.

As Daniel took his seat on the stool, Carter stepped up and fixed it, turning the tie-tac until the wings were at the proper angle.

“That’s my dad’s tie-tac,” she told him. “Now it belongs to you. You’re the only guy I know who’s earned wings of a whole other kind…” She made a circle with her fingers and held it over her head to indicate a halo. ”…and he and Selmak aren’t gonna be wearing this again, so we wanted you to have it.”  

“I don’t think I’ve _ever_ owned a suit as nice as this one, Sam. Thank you.” Daniel’s eyes were earnest as he watched her fuss over him. He was obviously moved and hugged her for a moment before she stepped away, leaving to start her workday in the lab. 

“Okay, Daniel, sit up straight…” 

With a little wave and a smile, Jack left them, sure that whatever expression Siler pulled out of the scientist would be the right one.

Jack thought about the significance of that photograph, then turned around and went back into the room. 

“Forget something, sir?” asked Siler, taking notice. 

Jack eyed Daniel, standing close to Siler with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. “I was just thinking, Daniel. Do you remember the first look you got at the cover stones?” 

“Yes, why?” 

“Close your eyes for a minute. _Really_ remember.” 

Daniel obeyed.

He slumped a little, tipping his head back as he had done when he entered that display room, where the cover stones were attached to the wall. He reached back into memory for that feeling of awe, that frisson of excitement as he stared at the huge, wondrous carving unlike anything he’d ever seen unearthed. A tiny little smile danced at the corners of his mouth. 

“Now, open your eyes,” Jack commanded softly. 

Still looking up, Daniel obeyed, the vision of that marvelous beginning washing over him and showing in his face. 

Jack touched Siler’s arm.

The photographer understood instantly… and took the picture. 

Daniel jerked around to face them, startled by the flash. “What?” 

“ _That_ was one shot I wanted. Now sit up straight and see if you can do it again.”

Jack grinned as Daniel shot him a warning look from beneath his lashes.

 “First view of the Stargate, Daniel. Remember that? Or standing on the ramp, going through it the first time.” 

A dreamy look settled over the man’s face as he smiled, staring off into space as he recalled that moment when it all truly began. 

The lights flashed and Daniel didn’t move, still lost in memory. 

“That’s a wrap, Doctor Jackson,” Siler announced. He flipped the switch on a small generator sitting on the floor and the umbrella lights went out. 

Looking a little startled, Daniel asked, “That’s it? We’re done?” 

“Back to work,” Jack said lightly, flicking an imaginary whip. “Don’t you have some translations or somethin’ to do?” 

Daniel slid off the stool. He glanced at his sleeve and touched it fondly again. “Yeah... This suit feels like a million bucks, Jack! I hate to have to take it off, but… maybe I’ll wear it to the party tonight.”

He smiled. 

“Do that and the waitress’ll be handing _you_ the check,” Jack teased.

“Don’t forget our training session later.”

He hesitated, smiling at his friend. “Carter and Fraiser did good, huh? You look like a scientist again in that. Like _Doctor_ Jackson.”

Jack had missed that, but he wasn’t going to admit it to anybody. He cuffed the man playfully on the shoulder. “Don’t be late, Daniel. You know how I hate waiting.”

He hurried out to get started on the rest of his day, hoping there would be time enough for Siler to finish by the deadline. 

Jack headed for the locker room where he had temporarily stowed his cardboard box full of goodies.

Removing the small box wrapped in birthday paper, he left it on the shelf in his locker and then took the rest to Carter’s office.

She wasn’t there.

On a hunch, he went up to 11, stepping behind the partitions to find her tallying up tasks on her clipboard. 

“Carter,” he called softly, not wanting to startle her. “We gonna get this puppy whipped into shape on time?” 

Her head whirled around to glance at him before returning to her checklist. “If Siler gets his part done on time, yes, sir. I’ll be hanging the pictures on twenty-eight early this afternoon and that one will be done. Our group shot’s the only one we’re missing at this point, so we can count that one as almost complete. This one…”

She glanced up at the Wall. “Siler may have to skip counting sheep tonight but I’m sure he’ll come through for us, considering who’s coming.”

She smiled at him conspiratorially. 

Jack nodded. He handed the box toward her and she nodded him toward the desk. 

“Just set it over there, sir. I’ll take them out and place them in a minute.”

She scribbled a few more notes. 

He stepped behind the desk and began taking the smaller boxes out, carefully unwrapping the presentation boxes and shadow boxes and setting them out in neat rows.

“Ever seen one of these in person, Carter?” he asked solemnly, opening the lids on the velvet presentation boxes before setting them down on the desk. 

“No, sir.” She finished writing and came around behind the desk, standing next to him and eyeing the medals. “They’re beautiful. Wow.”

Sam had to touch one. Picking up a velvet box, she stroked the satin ribbon and let her fingertips stray over the colorful enameled surface.

Respectfully, she set it back down. “They deserve these.” 

“They deserved a lot more than a piece of metal,” Jack murmured.

He slid the Medal of Freedom to the beginning of the row and stood looking at it. Then he turned and studied the empty space on the wall behind him.

All around that spot, pictures hung in beautiful wooden frames, pictures of people no longer available to receive the medals that would be affixed to the Wall beside their portraits, until such time as the SGC went public and their relatives might receive the medals personally. 

“Yes, sir,” Carter agreed, turning with him. “But sometimes, we get lucky. Sometimes they come back.” 

He regarded the years-old formal portrait of Major Charlie Kawalski and nodded. “And in other universes, they’re still alive.”

He sighed.

 _So much death,_ he thought, his eyes moving from face to face.

In the years to come, there would be many more.  

He picked up the teak shadowbox, admiring how it stood out from the walnut ones that enclosed the other medals.

Carefully wiping a fingerprint off the glass, he set it back down, remembering Daniel as he lay dying in the infirmary, wrapped up like a mummy in bandages.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and stepped away from the desk, heading for the door without a backward glance. 

“Good work, Carter,” he said huskily. “Let me know when it’s finished.” 

“Yes, sir. I will, sir.” 

“Even if it’s 0200.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He strolled out of the room with the cardboard box filled with tissue tucked under his arm, looking for a waste bin big enough to hold it. Once he’d tossed it properly, he headed for the locker room to change and found Daniel already there, carefully removing his suit and slipping into sweats.

Jack stopped in the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Okay, where is Daniel Jackson and what have you done with him?” he demanded. 

Daniel glanced up, eyebrows lifted, mouth drawn up in that inquisitive bow. “Huh?” 

“You beat me here,” Jack explained. “What’s wrong with you? Normally I have to go find you and browbeat you into working out.” 

“Oh. I just…” One hand waved in the air as he hung the suit jacket on the clothing bar in his closet. “…I was… I found a stopping point, Jack. It’s no big deal. I can be on time for things.” 

“Yeah? When?” 

“Now.” Daniel eyed him coolly, hanging up his pants. “Aren’t you going to change? God forbid I should actually beat you to the gym.” 

“Never happen,” Jack challenged.  

Half a second later, both men were stripping and dressing in their sweats at light speed. Jack kept glancing at him, trying to catch up and get a little ahead but Daniel had a good head start. The tie and the buttons on his dress shirt slowed him down enough that Jack was even with him when he got down to his boxers, and by the time they got their shoes on they were both panting and pointing at each other. 

“I beat you!” Daniel crowed, a wide grin on his face. “Even with the buttons!” 

“Did not,” Jack shot back, pouting. “I won.” 

“Did not.” 

“Did, too.” 

They argued back and forth light-heartedly, stepping closer and closer until they were in each other’s faces, barely able to suppress their smiles.

 Finally, each leaned back and crossed arms over their chests, drawing up manfully just before they lost it and laughed.

“We’ll call it a draw, then,” Jack suggested, sticking out his hand. 

Daniel stiffened slightly, chin cranking up a little as if he were going to challenge that ruling. Then he exhaled heavily, the ghost of a laugh on his lips as he smiled. “Deal.”

He shook the proffered hand firmly. 

That had felt good. It was fun and wonderful to see that the younger man was recovering some of his sense of play. Daniel did so little of that, and Jack really wanted to encourage him in it. He clapped the man on the shoulder and gave him a playful shove toward the door.

“Let’s go, Danny-boy. Time for me to kick your ass.” 

Daniel spun out of Jack’s grasp before he could get the push going and turned around with a grin.

“Oh, yeah? Says who?” He gave Jack a taunting little tap on the shoulder, dimples flaring. 

“Says your Colonel, geek.” 

“Who’re you calling a geek, smart-ass?” 

“Know-it-all.” 

“Old fart! I’ll be kicking _your_ butt before you know it.” Daniel jostled him with his shoulder. 

“In what universe? Dream on, bookworm.” Jack gave him another easy little shove. 

With a snort, Daniel fell into step beside him and argued playfully all the way to the elevator and up to the gym on Level 15.  

“You feelin’ better?” asked Jack as the doors opened. “I see you lost the shades. You don’t look like your ready to keel over any second now.” 

Daniel nodded, walking beside Jack down the corridor. “Yeah, sometimes the migraine meds Janet prescribed just take a little while to kick in, but it does help. I think I can manage a good workout today.” 

“You’ve gotten a lot better at using your fists,” said Jack admiringly as they strolled into the gym. “I thought we might do some take-downs, maybe some arm locks, a little falling and rolling.  You got anything in particular you wanna work on today?” 

Daniel nodded, looking at the floor as they walked. “Maybe some leg sweeps? Some exotic stuff, fighting from a position like… on my knees, maybe? I mean, somebody might knock me down and I’ll know how to fight my way back to my feet or take an attacker down who’s still standing when I’m not.” 

“Oooh, the good stuff! You’re on, buddy.” Jack clapped him on the shoulder enthusiastically and moved off to the mats, slipping off his Nikes.

“Warm-ups first,” he ordered, and started doing jumping jacks and arm circles to get his blood pumping. 

Daniel sat down on the mats and slowly, gracefully, began to stretch his legs, leaning down over them in a graceful glide.

That done, he moved to hands and knees, extending his left arm and right leg, balancing and stretching his back, shoulders and legs.

Rising to his feet, he noticed Jack watching him. 

“Where’d you learn that yoga shit, Daniel?” Jack asked between exercises. 

“Sam’s been teaching me,” the younger man admitted. “She says it’s making me more graceful.”

He frowned a little. “Um, not that I _needed_ to be graceful or anything, but…”

He shrugged and stepped into The Warrior posture, legs in a lunge and palms pressed together high over his head. “They’re great exercises for toning the muscles and warming up and I don’t get out of breath doing them.” 

He moved slowly out of the posture and winced. 

“You okay?” Jack asked, catching a glimpse of that expression of pain. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You _always_ say that, even when you’re bleeding and obviously _not_ fine,” Jack countered. “You need to come up with a more original answer to that question, one that actually gives some information.” 

“I just…” Daniel hesitated. “I tripped on the stairs and fell against the railing, is all.”

He put his right hand on his ribs for a moment, then started another posture. 

A frisson of alarm shot through Jack.

There weren’t that many stairs that people in the facility often used. Most of them were emergency access for when the elevators weren’t running. The other two sets of commonly used stairs were the ones joining levels 27 and 28, both leading up to the briefing room.  

Everyone on the base had been involved in the conspiracy to quietly keep Daniel away from there for the past two days, so he wouldn’t see what was going up in that hallway. 

“Which stairs?” Jack asked. 

“To the briefing room. I went up to see General Hammond yesterday afternoon.” 

Jack just stared at the man, unable to believe he’d just caught Daniel in a lie.

He gritted his teeth and said nothing. Daniel had _lied_ to him and done it without batting an eyelash! What kind of friendship did they have when Daniel would do that?

More importantly, _what was Daniel covering up with the lie?_

They needed to talk, but there wouldn’t be time today.

Maybe tomorrow after the excitement died down, he’d take his teammate aside and clear the air between them.

Jack didn’t like the idea of this breach of trust and didn’t intend to take it lying down. 

“That’s enough warm-ups,” he suggested. “Let’s get to it, shall we? Daniel, _Kree_!” 

The younger man came up and stood casually, face to face, arms dangling at his sides. 

“Ready stance,” Jack ordered. 

Daniel just stood there. “I’m ready.” 

Jack’s hands settled on his hips and he frowned, growing more irritated with his friend by the moment. “Do it like I taught you.” 

Tilting his head, Daniel replied, “Sometimes the first blow will come out of nowhere. I won’t always be in a ready stance. Let’s do it this way sometimes. Okay?” 

“Okay, Jackson. We’ll do it your way. Let’s see just how ready you are.” 

Gritting his teeth, Jack decided that Daniel Jackson was probably the most stubborn human being ever born. He lashed out at the man with his foot, aiming a kick at Daniel’s ribs. Jackson sidestepped and avoided the kick, then came back with a punch to Jack’s midsection. Catching Daniel’s wrist with his left hand, Jack stepped in close, applied the right pressure to Daniel’s left shoulder, swept one foot out from under him and dropped him flat onto his back. He listened to the air whoosh out of the man’s lungs with a note of satisfaction. 

Maybe he wasn’t getting too old after all. 

He bent over Daniel. “You okay down there?” 

“Fine,” Daniel ground out. 

Jack watched Daniel get slowly to his feet. “Okay, let’s try some take-downs for a while. You can throw me around a little, and then I’ll make you pay for it. Wanna see how I did that?” 

Daniel glared, pouting. “I _know_ how you did it, Jack. I just can’t believe I fell for it _again.”_  

“Okay, so maybe we’ll move on to that cool stuff you wanted instead. Ready?”  

The younger man’s face took on a look of grim determination as Jack knelt on the mats, ignoring the discomfort, and guided Daniel through an attack to demonstrate defensive maneuvers.

As soon as he’d been through them once, he got up slowly, walked the stiffness out of his knees, and let Daniel take the kneeling position with himself as the attacker.

He had Daniel make the moves at slower than normal speed, critiquing his technique and body alignment, correcting him, and then trying them out full speed. 

Jack managed to stay upright most of the time, but Daniel wasn’t as adept at pulling his punches and landed some that got a few grunts out of his sparring partner.

 Jackson learned fast, picking up the unusual moves efficiently, and after fifteen minutes they switched back to take-downs.  

Daniel hit the floor a couple of times and Jack offered his hand to help him up. The younger man was obviously suffering, and Jack knew it wasn’t from the few falls Daniel had taken.

Jack had seen the bruises while they were changing clothes, and it disturbed him. 

He was just about to say something when Teal’c caught Daniel’s attention. 

Both heads turned toward the Jaffa, and Jack watched a rubber training knife sail through the air and land in Daniel’s hand without the slightest bobble. 

A startled gasp escaped Jack.

“Whoa. Nice catch,” he said softly.

 _When had Daniel learned to do that?_ Jack wondered. 

“Try that technique again, O’Neill,” Teal’c challenged. 

“Why? Don’t you think I’ve beaten Daniel up enough?” Jack returned. He’d been about to call things to a close for the day.

Teal’c’s eyebrow answered, and with a sigh Jack turned back to his student and issued the challenge to begin. 

Daniel flipped the knife around in his hand.

Not many people used a blade in that fashion. Those who did usually knew what they were doing. Daniel just liked the way it felt… or so he said. 

The next thing Jack knew, he’d just been disemboweled and killed in two beautifully efficient, precise moves. 

For a moment, Jack had seen the glitter of intent in those blue eyes.

There had been no hesitation, no holding back of force.

Even now, Jack could feel the rubber burn across his throat from the friction of the dull edge pressing into and pulling against his skin. 

There was no question about Daniel’s abilities any more.

 He _was_ a warrior, hardened from years in the field.

Jack had little more to teach him. Show him how to improve the use of his fists and his feet and in no time at all he’d be a far better fighter than his Special Ops-trained commander.

When Daniel Jackson learned something, he learned it all the way to his core. 

He saw the obvious pride in Teal’c’s face as the Jaffa watched Daniel walking away, and remembered what day it was.

“Enough of the talk about work, T. It’s your birthday. Go have fun striking fear into the new kids.”

He clapped the big guy on the shoulder and followed Daniel out of the gym. 

While he showered, he thought about his teammate.

Daniel _had_ come a long way in the last eight years. He could certainly hold his own in the field now and Jack had no problem trusting him at his back.

That look on Daniel’s face in the gym was haunting him, though. So intent, so dangerous… and an instant later, consumed with fear. 

 _Why would Daniel be afraid of him?_  

Then his face had closed up completely.

Daniel was hiding something.

He ‘d beenfraid the knife thing would give it away, hadn’t he?  

Jack stood still in the shower, letting the hot spray hit him in the face, holding his breath.

He heard Daniel turn off the water and leave and Jack leaned forward, resting his palms against the tile wall. The water ran down his back at that angle, and he stared at the floor, still puzzling over what had happened in the gym. 

Jack shook his head, chiding himself for the ridiculous idea that leaped up in his mind.

There was _no way_ Daniel Jackson could be the Colorado Springs ninja!

He was too smart for that kind of nonsense.  

O’Neill finished his shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, intending to have a word with Daniel before he left, but the man must have decided to work on his dressing speed and raced the clock to get out ahead of his C.O.

Jack shrugged off the ludicrous idea and dressed, resigning himself to the remainder of a quiet day on the base. 

Half an hour later he was nodding off in a briefing meeting for all the senior officers.

He doodled on his notepad, trying desperately to stay awake and focus.

He sneaked a peek at Hammond’s pad and saw that the older man was covertly drawing naked women in the corners of his notes.

Jack smiled. Hammond was actually pretty good. 

Talk turned to security measures for the visitors the following day. Jack’s attention stayed riveted on that topic, questioning Major Kelly, the SGC’s chief of security, by studying the plan from a tactical standpoint and poking holes in every weakness he could find. When he’d done that sufficiently well, he turned the meeting back over to the General, who thanked him for his insight and suggested that the weaknesses be covered ASAP.  

When they were dismissed, Jack cornered Major Kelly privately and apologized for being so blunt in the meeting.

Kelly assured him he expected nothing less and expressed admiration for the Colonel’s expertise. He shook the Major’s hand and offered to help with the project, but Kelly assured Jack all would be done in time and went on to see to getting things set up for the visitors the next day. 

Jack checked his watch. Lunch had come and gone during the meeting and, rather than ruin his appetite for that steak dinner by having a snack, he headed for his office. There were a couple of reports needing to be finished up.

When that was done he stared at the phone for a moment, willing it to ring. Only it didn’t.

Carter hadn’t called with a progress report and he had to take it on faith that things were still going smoothly and the photographs would be finished, framed and hung in time. 

With a sigh, he shut up his office and returned to the locker room to change into civvies.

The restaurant wasn’t too fancy or fast food, so the festivities called for something casual but nice. He had chosen a nice pair of black jeans, a pale blue sport shirt and his leather jacket over that. 

He arrived at the restaurant at 1830 hours and ordered a beer which he sipped while he waited for the others to arrive.

Teal’c and Daniel came in together, followed by Carter.

She still had nothing to report and Jack was considering calling Siler up to check on his progress, but that would have to wait till after the party was over.  

If he or Carter still hadn’t heard from the man by the end of the evening, he might go light a fire under him or see if he could lend a hand to get things done faster, but he had every confidence that the Sergeant was working as fast as he could. They’d taken a lot of photographs that morning and while Jack didn’t know beans about adding in backgrounds and such, he imagined that stuff didn’t happen at the snap of somebody’s fingers. It would take time and he had to be patient. 

Jack was just about to tell Daniel to stop squirming in his seat when the food arrived.

For a moment, all Jack could see was that beautiful steak, marinated in Irish whisky. He leaned over the platter and inhaled deeply, his eyes closing in pleasure. “Ah, drunken Angus. It just doesn’t get better than that.” 

Carter smirked, then chuckled and shook her head. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, sir. Really.” 

He sat up straight, glaring a challenge down his nose. “Spill it, Carter.” 

“When I worked at the Pentagon, there was this guy named Angus…” 

“I don’t think we really need to go there, do we, Jack?” Daniel asked with a grin. 

Jack looked down at his steak. _Drunken Angus_ , he repeated to himself. “No. No, I want to hear this. Was Angus a funny drunk?” 

“Well, sir, you had to know him,” Carter burbled. “He was a genius fix-it guy, real problem solver, true nice guy. In fact, we took up using his last name to mean ‘ _creating unique solutions on the fly_.’ Only when he got drunk he got really… uh… sexy.” 

She blushed. 

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Oh?” 

“Yes, sir. And I think… we should just leave that story right _there_. Sir. Please.” 

“Okay, Carter. We’ll just assume from here on out that you enjoyed your drunken Angus as much as I’m about to enjoy mine.”

He grinned down at his plate as he carved off a piece of the juicy steak and popped it into his mouth.

“Mmmmmmm…” 

Her face turned beet red, but she was laughing. “Yes, sir. We’ll assume I did.” 

After that, silence fell while they all dived into their food.

Teal’c apparently approved of his new taste experience, and Jack stole a piece of sausage to make sure the Bangers and Mash were up to his exacting standards.

Carter’s potato encrusted salmon looked good, too; the fish cooked just enough to be tender without being dry.

Daniel scooped up a forkful of his boxty and deposited it on Jack’s plate, but he ignored that and got his own, with plenty of seafood and cheese, topped with cream sauce. Then he ate the second bite Daniel had given him and turned the rest of his attention on devouring his steak. 

“The cook gets an ‘A’ tonight,” he announced. “Is everybody happy with their food?” 

Unintelligible murmurs of approval sounded all around. 

By the time Daniel finished eating, he was wriggling in his seat again, jostling his seat mate with hip or elbow every few minutes. 

“What’s with you, Daniel? Got ants in your pants?” Jack asked after Daniel’s restless foot knocked against his ankle for the third time.

Jack was starting to get worried.

This was not the same strong, confident warrior he’d sparred with earlier in the day. Jack wondered what the hell had happened to Daniel in the few hours that had passed to transform him into this jumpy wreck. 

“Sorry. Sorry.” Daniel stilled instantly, but Jack could see that the man was strung out like a junkie needing a fix. His shoulders were up around his ears, his head bobbing about, eyes scanning the restaurant over the top of his shades, fingers drumming on the table, mouth drawn up tight. He looked like he might explode at any moment. 

The waitress interrupted to clear away their plates and everyone pulled out their gifts, sliding them toward the guest of honor.

Teal’c unwrapped each one carefully, beaming with pleasure as he examined them.

Daniel’s gift, however, put the rest to shame. 

It seemed every day Jack learned something new about his younger teammate that surprised him.

The translation wasn’t really that big a deal – Daniel could probably translate in his sleep – but the artwork, the extra little touches inside the book that made it beautiful, and getting it bound in that leather cover… it was truly a gift from his heart, and Jack knew Daniel had a _big_ honkin’ heart.  

That was precisely what got him on that memorial wall so many times.

Maybe one day his picture would go up there for a final time, but they all took that risk, every day.

It went with the job. 

Daniel was fidgeting again – not that Jack had seen him relaxed for a moment the entire evening. Warning bells went off in Jack’s head as he watched Daniel say a quick goodbye and practically dash out of the restaurant.

Jackson was the type to linger at good-byes, not hurry through them.

Something was definitely wrong with the man. 

Still, this was Teal’c’s night and Jack let it wind down at its own pace.

Discussion turned to Daniel’s odd behavior and Jack promised the others to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering their missing teammate.

Cake, ice cream and a bawdy limerick broke the somber mood, and soon enough they were standing on the sidewalk, saying their goodbyes. 

Jack strolled away with his head down in thought, trying to figure out the little hints and tugs that had been nagging at his consciousness all day, all centered around Daniel.

 He climbed into his truck and started the engine, driving down Tejon Street toward the roads that would take him home, stopping by Wal-Mart for a few things he needed.  

He put away the sundries in various cabinets and returned to the fireplace to peruse the commendations once more.

Smiling to himself, he hoped his younger teammate hadn’t guessed the surprise coming tomorrow.

Carter’s Wall and the Medal of Freedom would be fine tributes to the man, whom Jack had come to respect after their initial meeting. Daniel Jackson was far deeper than he appeared on the surface and Jack was pleased to call the man his friend. 

Turning away, he strolled toward the stairs and up to his bedroom, dressing for bed with the events of the next day scrolling through his mind.

Security was high and everyone was on alert for the slightest inconsistency, which brought Daniel’s recent behavior back into focus.

Something was troubling the man, and as soon as the VIPs were gone, Jack would sit Daniel down for a talk. 

He slipped under the covers, rolled over onto his side, and closed his eyes with a sigh. It had been a long day, but tomorrow would be longer and he needed what sleep he could get.

Only with concern about Daniel nagging at him, rest did not come quickly or easily. 

In time, after much tossing and turning, Jack O’Neill finally slipped into uneasy dreams. 

 

**In Memoriam**

**Colonel Jonathan "Jack" O'Neill**

**P3X-774 Nox Homeworld**

**12 September 1997**

**In Memoriam**

**Colonel Jonathan "Jack" O'Neill**

**SGC Base, Embarkation Room**

**7 August 1998**

Next Chapters:

A Day in the Life, Part IV: Daniel’s Day: _The Man in Black_

 _Night Watch_ , Part I and II


	4. A Day in the Life of Daniel: The Man in Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel is compelled to go out at night and fight crime, but the toll it's taking on him is making him question whether some part of him might *still* be ascended... or if he's simply losing his mind.

_Forbidden._

_The word echoed all through Daniel, annoying him._

_This was supposed to be better, he argued. You promised me! You led me to believe…_

_You may_ not _interfere. You were told this._

 _He heard Jack cry out and had to go, had to help, had to do_ something.

_The hands he no longer had were tied._

Forbidden, _the light impressed upon him._

_Then there was the terrible slaughter, and Teal’c lay dying._

_FORBIDDEN, he was warned again._

_The bonds around his spirit tightened. He squirmed and fought. He tried to reason with the Others, but they were cold and unfeeling. Daniel realized then where he was, what had happened to him._

_He moved. He tore loose from the non-existent bonds, reaching out to do what none of Them would. Abydos was at stake and Anubis had to be stopped. He acted, placing himself in the line of fire._

_Pain was the penalty, a rending of his soul such as he had never imagined, and then suddenly--_

“No!” he gasped, flinging himself upright in his bed. 

Daniel struggled to catch his breath, his heart hammering in his chest. Sweat ran in rivulets down his body, stinging his eyes. With a shaking hand he wiped them clean and turned to squint at the clock on his nightstand. 

4:57 AM. 

He’d had almost two hours of sleep this time before the nightmares took him.

Wide awake now, he flung the covers back and reached for the lamp.

He paced the small VIP room that was his only home now, trying to recall the dream that had so disturbed him. 

All he could remember clearly was that his hands had been tied. He glanced at his wrists, half expecting to see ligature marks from some kind of bonds, but there were none. He sighed and rubbed his face, his shoulders aching, head pounding, sharp spikes of pain lancing down into his eyes.

Migraines were not a good way to start the day, but he’d been getting them more often, and with each passing recurrence, they were more severe. Nausea hadn’t been a problem yet, but if the pain continued to get worse, he felt sure that would eventually compound his condition. 

The training with Jack and his nightly excursions were taking a toll. He was getting stronger and faster, but every day his body continued to keep him informed of the price for so much physical activity. Without proper nourishment and sufficient rest to counteract the exercise, he knew his resistance was suffering and he would eventually get sick, collapse from exhaustion or go psycho from lack of sleep.

He was going to have to back off a little, because he and the rest of SG-1 would be going out into the field again soon and he needed to be fresh and ready, not worn down to a nub. 

He took his glasses from the nightstand, thought better of that and left them there, opting for the prescription sunglasses in his locker instead.

Pulling open the drawer, he fished inside for one of the little prescription bubble packs of Imitrex that Doctor Fraiser had given him for the migraines, reluctantly stuffed the thing up his nose and pushed the plunger to dispense the fine spray. It tasted exceedingly nasty as it trickled down the back of his throat and onto his tongue and he gagged a little, pushing to his feet and heading for SG-1’s locker room. 

As he waited for the water to heat up in the shower, he undressed slowly and took stock of his body.

Ten years ago there had hardly been a mark on him.

Now his skin was a road map of scars, evidence of the hardships he’d survived as part of SG-1.

Scattered among them were a host of fresh bruises on his arms, ribs and back. 

No one had said anything about the marks, even though the team was officially on downtime, but Daniel knew that eventually someone was going to notice.

Maybe they already had, but just hadn’t called him on it yet.

So far, they’d been minding their own business.

He’d tried to intentionally get in the way of Jack’s fists, to take a punch hard enough to cause a discoloration, but somehow the Special Ops-trained Colonel had always managed to pull his punches just enough to make a point, not a bruise. 

With a sigh, he traced over a faint bluish spot on his ribs, pressing against it to feel the soreness, reminding himself how he’d gotten that one.

The rapist he’d subdued the night before had kicked him there and Daniel had grabbed that foot as it had impacted against him, lifted it straight up and thrown the guy down on his back.

A hundred and eighty pounds of angry vigilante had then descended upon the would-be rapist, and the guy had gone down for the count. 

That had been worth the price Daniel paid, and then some.

He smiled, closed his eyes and lifted his face into the hot water, washing away the weariness. He hummed a little as he bathed, snatches of something classical, and when he was finished he dressed in clean fatigues, took his sunglasses from his locker to mute the pain from the base lighting, and headed for his office to do a little translating. 

His computer chimed when breakfast time rolled around and he returned briefly to his quarters to return a book he wanted to study later that evening.

Just as he left, he spotted Teal’c ahead of him in the hallway, ready to step into the elevator.

He eased in after the Jaffa and greeted him. 

Teal’c seemed startled.  

Daniel gave himself a mental shake, trying to slip back into his work persona. That was harder to do these days, especially after so little sleep. His mind was still out there in the darkness somewhere, waiting for dawn.

Reaching for the elevator button, his body reminded him that it was recuperating from his last bit of abuse and it was all he could do not to groan.

He felt his face twitch and hoped Teal’c hadn’t seen it. 

He decided to cover it with a little exercise, stretching and rubbing himself a little. 

As usual, Teal’c didn’t miss a thing. 

“You have not been sleeping well. Perhaps you should mention this to DoctorFraiser.” 

Daniel shook his head. “Nah. She’d just push sleeping pills at me. I’ll be fine. It’ll pass.”

He put his head down and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift.

A moment later, his eyes popped open, disturbing images filling his thoughts during that unguarded moment.

He took a deep breath and searched frantically for a fragment of text, a quotation or table he could recite to drive those ugly visions away.

Think of anything but _that._  

Sweat broke out on his upper lip.

The doors mercifully parted and the Jaffa accompanied him down the corridor to the commissary.

Teal’c let him go first in the food line and Daniel gravitated toward his favorites, foods that would make him feel good as well as fill his stomach. At the moment he didn’t give a rat’s ass about nutrition; he just needed to taste something wonderful, something that would take his mind out of those awful, dark places it seemed to be going far too often these days, and for much too long. Comfort food was the order of the day. 

Even that wasn’t working as well as it once did. He ate mechanically, barely aware of the sweetness of the syrup or the fluffy texture of the pancakes.

Then Teal’c gently probed him about what was bothering him and Daniel was hard pressed to throw him off the scent.

Dealing with this problem took all of Daniel’s attention and he was aware that he needed to do something about it.

Only he didn’t have a clue what that something might be. 

 _How could he turn something off when he couldn’t understand what the hell it was?_  

His head whipped around at the sound of Jack caterwauling the birthday song.

Relief flooded through Daniel, glad for the distraction. He joined in as he urged Teal’c to stand up, the Jaffa eyeing the breakfast crowd balefully. Moments later, the whole team was seated and enjoying a little pleasant conversation about the plans for their oldest member’s party.  

Daniel joked with Sam about Jack’s serenade, knowing it would get a rise out of the older man, and he wasn’t disappointed.  

“You know, I’m gonna remember that come July when it’s your turn,” said Jack. “Just you wait.” 

Daniel pretended to be terrified, widening his eyes. “Uh... Jack, the only thing I want for _my_ birthday is for you _not_ to sing to me. Can I have that? Pleeeeease?”

He put on a comically witless grin, his eyebrows arching up his forehead. 

Jack ignored that, opting instead to talk about everyone’s plans for the day, starting with the photo session next on the list.

Daniel’s mind wandered, almost wishing they’d get into a series of back-to-back missions that would keep them busy.

The next one up, to PX7-449, promised to be a relief.

Not a soul on the planet anywhere except the four of them, surrounded by ice and snow for at least a week. 

Daniel complained briefly about the cold, having grown up much more accustomed to desert heat, but Jack took his complaint as a sign of being neglected. His reminder about social invitations led to a disagreement on how to spend leisure time, which simply reminded Daniel that he’d been intentionally avoiding going out with his friends in order to engage in his secret nighttime pursuit for most of the last month. Talk circled mercifully back around to work and he began to relax a little.

Daniel’s mind was on autopilot, answering questions while playing with the syrup on his plate, just about falling asleep as he waited for everyone else to finish. 

He thought about getting more coffee but then Teal’c left and Jack and Sam started discussing alien doohickeys and sleep threatened to steal over Daniel once again.

He was so tired, so distracted, and wished for nothing more than a good night’s rest in a peaceful place.

Maybe when they camped out on that snowy planet… 

“Daniel, you fallin’ asleep, there?” asked Jack, giving him a nudge with his elbow. 

“No,” he sighed back. “Just thinking.”

He put his fork down and straightened.

Lightning bolts of bright pain shot through his muscles. He winced and groaned, unable to stop himself, certain the others would take notice. Terrified he’d have to come up with some sort of explanation for his uncharacteristic aches, he stared down at his plate, thinking furiously. 

This time, however, fortune was with him and no one seemed to notice.

At least, no one questioned him, which was a great relief.

The surge of adrenaline helped him wake up, and he put on a great show of stretching and grunting as a cover.

Minutes later, they were off, heading for Level 17. 

Just as they reached the doorway, Jack’s comment about his glasses and lack of threads reminded Daniel that he’d left his jacket for the green fatigues in the locker room and his regular frames in his quarters.

On the elevator ride down to 25, Daniel thought idly about clothes.

He really didn’t have any, other than what the SGC had issued him and the blue robes in which SG-1 had found him a few months earlier on Vis Uban.  

Maybe it was time he went off the base and did some shopping. That could give him an excuse to get out a little, do something other than work and try to remember what it was like to have a life. He must have had one once; he just couldn’t recall it.

There was almost nothing in his memory of Daniel the man. Sometimes there were fleeting glimpses of the team at a restaurant or other outing, and of course there were fragments of his life on Abydos with Sha’re, but that was all. 

He had observed others at the base leaving at the end of their shift or after a mission, talking about the activities they planned to enjoy, the families waiting for them, or the fun they’d had when they returned, fresh and rested from their downtime.

Yet no matter how he searched in his mind, Daniel couldn’t recall having that kind of a life, where he really _lived._

He wasn’t sure he knew how that was supposed to be done. 

He snagged the jacket and hurried back to the elevator.

When he reached the studio doorway, he stopped and just watched for a moment.

For the first time, he noticed the clothing rack, hung with Jack and Sam’s dress blues plus several other outfits, regular clothes as well as military wear.

Teal’c stood to one side dressed in his Jaffa armor sans headpiece, and it dawned on Daniel that this was a _real_ photo session, not like the one he’d been taken through to get his civilian ID made for the badges and such after he first arrived on the base. 

They weren’t just taking quick snapshots. These were _official_ portraits. He took a deep breath and tried to gather his scattered, exhausted wits to prepare for the photography session, knowing he looked like he felt. He really didn’t want to have that captured on film, but he’d not been given a choice in the matter. 

“Hi, Daniel,” Sam called cheerfully, waving a little. “What took you so long?” 

“I had to go to the locker room for my fatigue jacket and my quarters for my glasses. What’s with all the clothes? And why is Teal’c in his armor?”

Daniel didn’t understand why the SGC would want a portrait of the Jaffa as a Jaffa, and not in Tau’ri clothes.  

Moments later, he returned to the locker room for his BDUs -- both the greens and the desert gear -- and stopped by his quarters for the blue robes, just in case. 

He _hated_ having his picture taken.  

When he returned to the studio, the topic of conversation was Colorado Springs’ enigmatic Man in Black. Daniel pretended ignorance, listening to what the others thought about the man.

Teal’c considered him a great warrior. Sam was positive but reserved, and Siler was openly enthusiastic. Predictably, Jack thought the Man in Black was nuts. 

Daniel wanted to say something to defend the nighttime crime fighter, but he couldn’t. It was better -- safer for him -- if he kept his opinions to himself.

The people on his team knew Daniel Jackson better than he knew himself and he was aware he was already giving away clues.

Eventually, with enough evidence, one of them was going to figure it out and confront him, and when that happened, he simply didn’t know what he’d do. It depended on who it was.

Teal’c or Sam would probably keep his secret, at least for a little while longer.

Jack wouldn’t take the news well and regulations would require him, as commanding officer of his team, to report Daniel to General Hammond.  

Daniel didn’t want to end up in a mental institution again.

There was nothing wrong with his mind. 

At least, he didn’t _think_ he was mentally ill. He was pretty sure of that, since he wasn’t having hallucinations and was still rational. As to what _was_ wrong with him, he was trying to find the answer to that on his own. His methods just weren’t working yet.  

He thought back to the images that had driven him out into the night that first time, how deep they went, pulling him into the darkness like a sleepwalker.

A month back he had taken a taxi to Cascade and Cimarron, getting out to just walk the streets, his coat pulled up around his face to fend off the early spring chill. He’d been wearing a stocking cap and turtleneck Jack had loaned him for an outing the team planned for the next day, since Daniel didn’t own many street clothes at the time.  

The liquor store robbery had drawn him in like a magnet.

Just before stepping through the door, Daniel had pulled the sweater’s thick neck over the lower part of his face, knowing the store’s security cameras would tape what happened next.

Moving strictly by instinct, Daniel had come up behind the robber, disarmed him and knocked him cold with military precision, just as he had been trained. 

Still, Jack _was_ right and Daniel knew it.

Someday soon, one of the people he hunted would get lucky or be a little faster, a little stronger, and the Man in Black might possibly be unmasked in the morgue.

He dropped his gaze to the studio floor, silently giving in to Jack’s appraisal of his alter ego.

Maybe he _was_ crazy.

Now, for the first time, he began to consider the possibility that he might be slipping off the edge of sanity, and that terrified him. 

He needed to think about something else, to distract himself and stay in the moment. He watched the Sergeant work his photographic equipment, listened to Jack’s wisecracks and teasing and thought about the work waiting for him in his office.

Gradually the grip of fear on his mind gave way and he began to relax a little. 

The photo session seemed to last forever. There was a lot of standing around and talking while Siler took pictures of whoever was under the lights, and then there were team photos where they all had to change clothes several times so their outfits matched.

Teal’c finally excused himself to go to the gym and Sam pulled out a black garment bag, which she held out to him. 

With a little surprise, he unzipped it with excited hands, touched that his teammates got him something special to wear for the pictures. The suit inside blew him away, because he could tell that it was an expensive one and that his friends had taken care to choose what he would like, in the right size and color to fit him. His eyes felt wide as saucers as he looked at the beautiful gray silk.

For a moment he was speechless, running his fingers over it in amazement.  

Sam smiled warmly at him. “Like you said, we gave away all your clothes. We thought you should have a nice suit for your formal portrait, so we took up a collection. Janet and I picked it out. There are dress shoes and socks to match in the box under the garment rack. You won’t need ‘em for the portrait, but you will when you wear your new suit tomorrow for the official inspection.” 

Daniel’s heart filled up with warmth. He couldn’t recall anyone ever doing something this nice for him. There were still a lot of holes in his memory, but he was sure this was the best present he’d ever received, and it had come from his friends, for no reason at all other than they wanted him to have it.

He swallowed down a sudden tightness in his throat. 

“It’s beautiful, Sam. Thank you.” Daniel’s hands touched the cloth, rubbing the lapel between thumb and fingers, smoothing down the front. He took it from her and pulled it close to his chest, almost hugging it as he walked to the changing area. 

He was smiling as he emerged, touching the sleeve in awe. It fit him perfectly and felt great. He was still feeling the fabric when he sat down on the stool and Sam came over to straighten his tie. 

“That’s my dad’s tie-tac.” Her fingers adjusted the V-shaped wings into a perfectly upright position. 

Daniel was moved by that.

He remembered Jacob and knew that Sam’s father viewed him as family.

Jacob even called him Danny. 

“Now it belongs to you,” Sam went on fondly. You’re the only guy I know who’s earned wings of a whole other kind, and he and Selmak aren’t gonna be wearing this again, so we wanted you to have it.” 

He saw her fingers make a halo over her head. 

Daniel wasn’t an angel. Everything he knew about his experience as an ascended being,he had learned from his teammates, things they had told him about times they saw him.

He didn’t remember any of it, but he was sure he hadn’t been in Heaven.

Lately, he was beginning to wonder if he had been in Hell. 

He swallowed hard, looking up into her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever owned a suit as nice as this one, Sam. Thank you.”

Daniel hugged her for a moment, grateful to have a friend as warm and caring as she was. He watched her smile and wave goodbye as she continued her day doing Sam Carter things. 

Jack stepped out shortly afterward and when Siler was finished, Daniel gathered up his meager selection of outfits and stopped by the locker room to put them away. He headed to his office for some serious translating, still wearing his suit, reluctant to take it off just yet.

Before he got started, however, he set his computer to chime when he needed to leave for his appointment with Jack.

It wouldn’t be long, but Daniel knew if he didn’t set a timer, he’d completely forget about it and Jack would come haul him out of his office by the ear. 

It seemed only a moment had passed when the chime went off.

Leaving his books and notes as they were on the desk, he rose mechanically and headed for the locker room, his mind still toying with the multiple meanings of the word he’d been studying. It was key in the phrase, with the potential to take the whole sentence in many directions.

He stood before the open space that served as his closet, his nameplate recently restored to its former place.

Carefully removing his jacket, he put it on a hanger just as Jack came into the room. 

“Okay, where is Daniel Jackson and what have you done with him?” 

Daniel turned to look at his C.O., perplexed by that question. “Huh?”  

He had wondered that very thing for the last few weeks. He didn’t seem to be the same guy he’d been before ascension; but then, Daniel Jackson was constantly evolving.

All through his life he’d tried hard to hold on to his basic character and adapt to whatever circumstances required of him; first with adjusting to the demands of life on digs with his parents, then foster care, the academic world and now, the military world of the SGC.

For a while he’d felt comfortable in his skin, at peace with his second chance at life, pleased to be making a difference on SG-1. 

Since that first troubling vision, however, it was getting harder and harder to understand who he really was, underneath it all. Daniel simply wasn’t sure anymore. Late in the day and in early mornings he was confused, exhausted and barely able to keep his wits together at any given moment. Weariness nagged at him during the day, but at least he could keep his wits about him and function somewhat normally. 

He shrugged off Jack’s teasing inquiry and raced to change into sweats, beating Jack by the flick of a shoelace.

After a fun dispute about who beat whom, Daniel finally acquiesced to a draw and they headed for the gym.

He found he enjoyed the banter with Jack. It had taken a few weeks for that to come back, and with it came a flood of memories and that uncanny connection with his old friend that made Daniel feel that he was truly home at last. 

By the time they entered the spacious room, they had decided on the skills they wanted to sharpen with their workout.

Jack liked to talk about what he knew well, and he was a good teacher. The depth and breadth of his skill in this area was simply mind-boggling. Jack O’Neill was a death machine beneath the sometimes charming, sometimes funny, hard-to-take-seriously man on the surface. 

Getting started was hard.

Daniel’s body protested, reminding him how banged up he was.

Jack saw it, of course, and asked him about the pain. 

Of course, Daniel lied to him, concocting what he thought was a plausible explanation of falling against the stair railing in the briefing room, rather than admit he’d gotten kicked by a would-be rapist in the middle of the night.

He felt bad about lying to his best friend, but it was necessary.

Jack seemed to buy it after a brief inquiry and let it go, moving them swiftly into training mode.  

Daniel felt the sweep coming and let Jack take him down with it. He knew how to counter that, how to keep from getting into that position in the first place, but it was best that Jack didn’t understand just how well his student had picked up all the moves. String Jack along, let him see progress mixed in with confusion and keep his curiosity at bay. Learn no faster than Jack expected him to learn and all would be well. 

He picked up some new moves under Jack’s expert supervision and then they shifted to take-downs.

Jack threw him again, this time offering him a hand up.

Daniel’s body was aching, begging for him to quit, but he couldn’t. The Colonel hadn’t worked him hard enough for that kind of pain and if he showed what he was feeling, he’d tip his hand for sure. O’Neill would know something else was going on and Daniel didn’t want to talk about it. 

Teal’c called to him and pitched him a rubber training knife.

Daniel caught it instinctively, flipped it around in his hand and waited. Jack argued with him about how he held it but Daniel was more competent with it in the reverse position. He had learned the basics of knife-fighting a lifetime ago, taught by José, a friendly guide in the Yucatan, after the academics at the dig site had a run-in with some bandits.

José had saved their lives and made sure that those who were fit enough spent a little time each day learning to defend themselves with a blade.

Daniel had taken the study a lot farther from that starting point, but no one at the SGC ever knew about his competence with edged weapons. 

Jack had never noticed Daniel’s skill with a knife, which was a good thing.

Other than cutting down saplings or filleting a fish, Daniel had never had occasion to use it in the field. Pistol and P-90 were the weapons of preference, followed closely with zats. Only on rare occasions did they have to resort to using their fists, and that was usually after they’d been disarmed completely, so Jack had never witnessed what Daniel could do with a blade in his hands and his life on the line. 

Daniel was still remembering José when Jack gave him the signal to start. Without thinking, he stepped in close, blocking Jack’s hands with his body, and cut instinctively. When he finished the movements he realized what he’d done, but it was too late.  

Jack’s eyes were glaring at him in surprised admiration.

He _knew._

Maybe he didn’t know everything yet, but it wouldn’t take him long to figure it out.

He’d be watching Daniel’s every move now, every gesture, studying the man he thought he knew so well, looking for other clues to the warrior beneath the scholarly surface. 

In time, Daniel knew, Jack would see the Man in Black. 

He apologized, angry with himself for his lack of control.

Jack didn’t buy it for an instant.

 Worse still was the fact that Teal’c had seen it already and that assessment was responsible for the big guy tossing him the knife in the first place.

Teal’c wanted him to show Jack just how apt his pupil was. 

 _Had Teal’c figured it out already? When had the Jaffa ever seen him use a knife?_  

Daniel risked a glance at those big, dark eyes that saw so much, and saw pride gleaming back at him, mixed with speculation and a deep curiosity. 

Maybe. Maybe not. Daniel couldn’t be sure. 

He tried to joke it off, act like he’d never thought about his proficiency with weapons, and as quickly as he could, he got out of there.

By the time he made it to the locker room he was sweating profusely and ducked into the showers just as Jack arrived.

They never spoke, never made eye contact in there, but Daniel squirmed under Jack’s indirect attention focused like a laser on him, curious and assessing, thinking about what he had just seen. 

His head was pounding again. His hands were shaking; the lights in every room seemed unbearably bright. It made him nauseous and all he wanted was to lie down and sleep, but he couldn’t.

He had to keep up appearances, hurried out of the shower well before Jack and changed into his new suit and sunglasses.

In no time, he was back at his desk, grateful for the cover of solitude.

Daniel threw himself into his work, unaware of the passage of time. He shut out all the distracting clutter that had filled his mind of late and concentrated on the words. He loved words, the way language captured ideas and conveyed them, the way different cultures created concepts others missed completely. Language was a thing of beauty, perhaps the greatest achievement of humanity. Words could wound. They could be powerful weapons as well as instruments of peace and healing. They could paint pictures of infinite beauty and touch hearts and minds long after the writer was dust. 

He pulled open a drawer and lifted out the wrapped gift he’d made for Teal’c.

If he gave this to his friend, it might well be an admission of guilt. It could be the last piece in the puzzle, the broadest hint of his secret identity, but he had nothing else suitable for a present.

This was what he’d wanted Teal’c to have, and Daniel had gone to a great deal of trouble having it professionally bound so it would look nice on a bookshelf or bedside table. 

With a sigh, he slipped the book back into the drawer and opened his personal journal, this one written not in English, as most his journals were, but in the flowing Elvish script he’d borrowed from JRR Tolkein as a boy.

Not many people, modern linguists included, could read that writing, so he felt his secrets were safe, hidden in plain sight.  

There was no possibility of changing gifts now. Daniel hadn’t been engaging in his nighttime hobby when he’d decided on that homemade book for Teal’c’s birthday present, and if the rest of the team found him out, so be it. He’d deal with that as it came. 

Daniel read over the first entry after the aborted liquor store robbery, more than a month earlier.

 

_I was drawn to that place at that time as if I knew I should be there to help. Everything happened so fast I couldn’t think, and I just got out of there as quickly as I could. I was so pumped I couldn’t sit down for half an hour after it happened, and felt completely wrung out once the adrenaline wore off._

_Writing this now the morning after, I can say I had the best night’s sleep ever, filled with contentment and peace. I'm strangely fulfilled, as if this is my true calling, though I know it's not. It just feels really good to have saved a life all by myself._

The next night’s entry was not so positive.

 

_It’s as if I can tell the future, though I know I’m no clairvoyant. Maybe it’s something else, some sense of intent or evil that draws me to the place._

_Tonight a man was preparing to set an old apartment house on fire, probably a hired job, but I don’t care about the reasons why. There were people squatting in that building, and the death toll would have been unthinkable. I knew it was going to happen. I had to go there, knowing already what I would see, terrified of what I had to do. _

_Is this something left over from the Ancients? I have no idea what the source might be for this… power, for lack of a more descriptive word. It appears to be growing stronger and I feel I must prepare for what is to come. I don’t know how to fight well enough, though I’m learning that._

_There are other considerations, too. I’ve been lucky so far that no one’s pointed a gun at me, but that may not always be the case. There needs to be some planning on my part, shoring up of my defenses._

_God forbid I should get caught! The SGC would be hard pressed to help me out if I’m hauled in as a vigilante. Jack would be supremely pissed off at me personally, for one thing. I can’t take the risk of being on the scene when the police arrive, so I’ll need some transportation for a quick, quiet getaway._

_I can’t believe I’m really considering doing this. I just feel as if I don’t have a choice._

_I have the notion that my double life is going to get expensive. It’s a good thing I’m making some money now. I’ll need protective gear, too, and someplace to store all this stuff that’s not on the base, somewhere private. That will take some time to figure out._

_I’ve got the day off tomorrow. Maybe I’ll sign a car out of the motor pool and take care of as much of this as I can then._

_Of all the things I thought my future might hold when I was a boy, this was never on the list._

_Part of me is laughing at myself, at how foolish it is for me to think I can pull this off and keep it a secret. Another part is curious, wondering how all this happened. And then there’s the part that’s scared to death that something terrible will go wrong and I’ll look back and see what an incredible fool I am, being here at all._

_I should’ve died after Kelowna. That’s what was meant to be, and I found a way out._

_Now I’m back in my body, and I’m dealing with this weirdness. _

_God, what I’d give for a normal life! But then, after all I’ve seen and done, I’d probably die of boredom._

 

The next record had been written a week afterward.

 

_I found a storage place that has plenty of space, ground floor rooms with roll-up garage doors, and the one I rented is in the middle of the complex, with no clear view of the street. I should be able to go in and out without being seen and the motorcycle is perfect, not too big to handle or noisy, but still plenty of speed if I need it. I spent some time getting the Ducati logos off, which wasn’t easy, but I figure there aren’t many of these on the street, so with the brand name announcing that, I’d attract more attention, which is the last thing I want._

_There’s something satisfying about this vigilante thing and I’m happy with that. But it seems that, the more I’m out doing it, the more I need to be out doing it. _

_The violence seems to be escalating, getting more dangerous each time I go out. Worse still, the visions themselves are darker and more disturbing. I’m not sleeping much, partly because I’m so battered and exhausted by the time I make it to my bed that my body has a hard time relaxing before the alarm goes off in the morning._

_It’s hard to sleep now. If I close my eyes, I wake up screaming, horrified to the point that I’ve taken to keeping a trash can by my bed in case I vomit, which has happened once or twice. The only way to satisfy the visions is to go out and help someone, but seeing these terrible things happen right in front of me is far worse than watching in my imagination._

_I don’t see how I can keep living this double life. I have to get some rest, and the only time I seem to be able to sleep is during the day, when I should be working. I feel powerless to resist this urge to go out and help. I’ve tried to stay in, tried to pick and choose, but I’m losing that battle. That choice is slipping away from me. As long as my poor body will function, I’m driven to go out for as long as I can to do battle. _

_I’m terrified of all this, of what’s happening to me. Something’s going to have to give, and I just hope it’s not my mind. I’ve been through that before, and don’t want to go there again. I just don’t know what else to do._

He took up his pen and started to make a new entry.

 

_I can’t remember when the last time was that I slept for more than a couple of hours. I know it’s been a few days at least. It’s hard to concentrate and I’m getting reckless. I think it’s time I told somebody what’s going on, but not tonight._

_Tonight is Teal’c’s birthday and I don’t want to be locked up in the infirmary and miss his party._

_I’ll do it after I get back to the base tonight. Maybe tomorrow afternoon instead, after all the hoopla of the coming inspection, so I don’t cause Dr. Fraiser any hardship. I’ll wait until the circus is over and tell her what’s been happening. She won’t think I’m nuts unless all the test results come back negative, but I’m hoping she’ll find some reasonable explanation for why this is happening to me. _

_I wouldn’t be stalking the streets of Colorado Springs, hunting down criminals, if I had a choice. I know what I’m doing is saving lives and therefore important, but this isn’t fun. Far from it._

 

Just then Teal’c knocked on the frame around the open door. “It is time, DanielJackson,” he announced. “Are you ready?” 

“Just one second,” Daniel replied, jotting down a final note in his journal.

 

_I think I’d rather just sleep._

 

He sighed, closed the journal and slipped it into a drawer, then started stacking the other books on his desk. He rose as he took the wrapped present out of the open drawer, tucked it under his arm and offered his teammate a smile.

“All set, Teal’c. Let’s go.” 

His mind returned to dealing with his double life in the car on the way to the restaurant.

Teal’c remained quiet as he drove, and Daniel gazed out the window at the city covered in darkness.

He could already feel that pull, that sensation at the back of his mind, an excruciating awareness of impending violence that he tried desperately to shut out. 

Daniel followed Teal’c inside Jack Quinn’s, glancing around at all the people. It was a busy place, popular with the weekend crowd. The waitress took them to their booth and Daniel sat down next to Jack, needing the man’s upbeat mood to counteract his own. 

He tried joking, but his heart wasn’t in it and it showed.

Moments later, Sam joined them and Daniel began to feel a little better. She had a calming effect on him, and having the four of them there together seemed to help Daniel relax. 

Then Jack gave her a look.

She shot one back at him and Daniel’s curiosity leaped up. 

“He promised,” Sam said emphatically. “They’ll be ready.” 

“Who promised what?” Daniel asked, looking between them. “What will be ready when?” 

O’Neill’s eyes twinkled. “You wanna add a ‘where’ and ‘how’ for good measure, there, Daniel?” 

“You will find out tomorrow,” Teal’c assured him. “For now, we must celebrate another year together... and the return of one we have greatly missed.” 

Daniel was touched by the warmth and joy in his friend’s eyes.

All of them were smiling at him, even Jack. That felt good. In that moment, Daniel felt a new resolve that he really did belong back with his friends, helping them with their work at the SGC.

These were the people who were closest to him in the whole world, and he felt guilty for keeping such an important thing from them.

He glanced down at the book wrapped in gold paper on the bench beside him that he felt sure would announce to them all what he did in his spare time.  

If it didn’t, he would tell them. He would ask their help. But not tonight. Tonight was for Teal’c, and he didn’t want to spoil that by making himself the object of attention. He would wait until tomorrow. 

Only he couldn’t sit still, no matter how he tried, until finally Jack called him on it.

They talked and drank and ate companionably and Daniel enjoyed that, but nagging at him was the sense that he needed to be somewhere else.

Things were happening; dark, unspeakable things, and he needed to stop them.

He glanced down at his hands as he scooped up a forkful of boxty, certain he could feel invisible bonds tightening around his wrists.  

 _Forbidden._  

He stopped chewing as the word echoed in his mind. 

 _You must not interfere._  

His stomach roiled. Flashes of memory seared his mind. 

 _Jack, in Baal’s prison. Teal’c and Brata’c, lying on the battlefield. Brata’c and Rya’c, in the death camp. Abydos, vanishing in a cataclysm of light and sound._  

His hands started to shake. He forced the half-chewed bite of food down his throat, mentally following its progress down his esophagus. He couldn’t eat any more after that and his dinner sat in a cold lump in his stomach. 

The plates were cleared away and suddenly it was time for gifts.

Daniel tried to push those terrible thoughts away, to concentrate on the present and enjoy Teal’c’s birthday.

He watched his friend open Sam’s card and Jack’s new video game, still trying to decide if he was ready for the revelation. 

It was way too late for him to have second thoughts about his gift now.

He pushed the package across the table to Teal’c and looked away, in case any of them put two and two together and made four.

Jack would be first to speak, to gently question whether Daniel had lost his mind.

Teal'c would be proud but worried about him.

Sam would be shocked.

And then they would take him back to the base and lock him up.

If they did that, if they kept him from going out into the night, he was afraid he would die. Whatever it was that pushed him to do this vigilante thing, it was too powerful now to resist.

He stared at the floor imagining the terror he would feel if he found himself caged behind a locked door again.

If they imprisoned him, he thought he really would lose his mind. 

His palms were sweating. His clothing felt restrictive. Perspiration trickled down between his shoulder blades and beaded up on his forehead and upper lip.

He was shaking now, seeing the faces of an old woman as she wakened suddenly to quick, brutal death, her image bright and hazy with light that made Daniel’s eyes hurt. 

Daniel struggled to drag his attention back to the people around him, back to the restaurant booth where they sat. By some miracle of fate, his companions didn't make the connection. Daniel relaxed a little as they all examined the little book.

Everyone seemed impressed by his choice. 

Teal’c seemed especially pleased. The look he gave Daniel was filled with warmth and admiration, just the slightest smile playing about his lips, and once again, Daniel wondered if Teal’c knew his secret identity. 

He studied the Jaffa, suddenly aware of little tendrils of blue and green light waving about the man.

Daniel eyed Sam, now emitting a glowing golden radiance that sparkled and shimmered all around her. He glanced at Jack and then around the room at all the other patrons of Jack Quinn’s, and everyone looked like they were on fire.

Insides clenching, Daniel turned back to Teal’c. 

That horrifying vision surged into view again, blotting out the Jaffa’s pleased smile.

Daniel had to go _immediately_ if he were going to arrive in time. 

“Uh, sorry, Teal’c, but I have to leave now,” he heard himself say suddenly.

The waking nightmare clamored for his attention and he beat a hasty retreat, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and calling for a taxi before he even reached the sidewalk. 

A few minutes later, when the car pulled up to the curb, Daniel got in and shut the door. 

“Where to, buddy?” called the driver over his shoulder. 

Daniel’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.  

 _I can’t go out again,_ he told himself. _I just can’t! This has to stop. I can make it stop, if I try hard enough._  

“Cheyenne Mountain,” he answered stiffly, his voice unnaturally deep and hoarse. 

“Yes, sir.”  

The driver pulled away from the curb and drove him straight to the base, dropping him at the gate.

Daniel paid his fare and gave a generous tip, then stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, his suit jacket buttoned up against the chill of the April evening. He walked the long way from the guard post where the taxi dropped him, down the winding lane across the foot of the mountain and across the wide parking lot. He kept his head down, his shoulders hunched, body sweating and twitching every step of the way to the entrance of the mountain.

The brisk fifteen minute walk seemed to take forever. 

His hands were still cold as he signed in on the 11th floor, but what bothered him more was the weird stuff going on with his vision.

Everything appeared to be glowing. Pale radiance shone from the walls and floor, brighter outside when he’d looked at dirt and plants. People were fiery bright, their images transparent as he watched them glow. 

He hurried to his quarters, turned off all the lights and took off his sunglasses as he sat on the side of the bed. Holding out his hand in front of his face, he could clearly see the outline of his fingers and hand, his whole body lighting up the room. He rose to go to his bureau for pajamas, undressing with hands that shook so hard he just left his clothes where they lay. His whole body was quivering and he dropped his pajama pants twice before managing to pull them on. 

Daniel started pacing, his hands flexing as he tried to shut the other visions out. 

“I can _stop_ this,” he declared aloud to the empty room. “I can _stay_ here. I can close my eyes and see _nothing_.” 

He stood still and tried it. 

_The old woman he had seen in the restaurant died screaming. He could hear her terrified shriek, smell her blood in the air, and see the light of her body go out before his eyes. He was too late, had waited too long, and now she was dead because he hadn’t saved her._

“Oh, God.” He put his hands to his head, squeezing. “Please, make it stop!” 

Another vision slid into view. 

Daniel whimpered, falling to his knees. He bent over, cowering on the cold concrete floor, arms crossed over his head. Heart full of horror, he wept as he watched those strangers die in his mind, certain that, if he logged onto the local news via internet the next morning, he would learn the name of the old woman he had allowed to die.

Now someone else needed his help.

He had the chance to help someone else now. 

How could he just stay below in his quarters and do nothing?  

 _Go to them._  

Bolting upright, Daniel glanced around, wondering where that deep, gentle voice had originated.

There was no one in the room with him.

He could see every inch of it, even without benefit of lights.

Mouth so dry he couldn’t even swallow, he listened, straining to hear it again. 

Had he really heard anything at all, or had it simply been an echo of his own consciousness, willing him out into the night?

 

_You are needed. Go._

 

Instantly Daniel was on his feet again. He didn’t want to resist the urging, not really. He could _do_ this, had done it many times, without being caught. And he was saving peoples’ _lives._ That mattered far more than his fear of being found out. 

Heart pounding, adrenaline flooding his veins, he began to prepare for his mission with ruthless efficiency. He urinated in his tiny bathroom, washed his hands and put in the contacts he wore on these nightly missions.  Pajamas were hastily yanked off and jeans pulled on without bothering to hunt for underwear.

Daniel hauled on a T-shirt, shoved his feet into boots, then grabbed his pass card and base ID on the way out the door, stuffing them into his right hip pocket while hurrying down the empty corridor.

Jaws clenched, mind focused like a laser on the path that would take him to the surface, he waited for the elevator and checked his watch for the time. 

It was just after midnight. He pulled out his cell phone and called for a taxi as soon as he hit the tunnel mouth, power walking all the way to the front gates.

Running would make him look like he was in too big a hurry and draw attention to him, which he didn’t want.

 It was late, but people were always around and observant in a place such as that. 

He arrived at the front gate at the same time as the taxi, which had made good time in the sparse traffic.

Giving an address that would leave him a couple of blocks from the storage facility where his gear was stored, Daniel sat in the darkened back seat of the cab, listening to that compelling inner voice that he was learning to trust, already slipping into the meditative place that would help him use his energy most efficiently.

Soon it would be time for the Colorado Springs ninja to make another appearance, then vanish afterward without a trace.

 

**End of the Day**

Next Chapters: _Night Watch_ , Part I and II

 


	5. Night Watch, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel's surprise is finally ready, but once the ceremonies are over, Jack figures out that Daniel is the Colorado Springs ninja. He and forces Daniel to check into the infirmary, but as night falls, the young scholar begins to become... something else.

Daniel pulled the pillow over his head as the alarm clock went off, his body curling up into a ball of pain.  

 _It’s just an inspection,_ he told himself. _I can call in sick and hide here in my quarters until it’s over. They don’t need me to tell some political types how important this program is. If the idiots don’t already get that, my opinion won’t push them over the edge._  

He reached out and shut off the alarm, burrowed deeper into his covers and went back to an exhausted sleep.

* * *

“Get up, Daniel.” 

 _Why am I dreaming about Jack?_ Daniel wondered.

The voice sounded again, pushing him toward wakefulness.

He fought it, clutching his pillow harder.

At least he _thought_ it was his pillow. His mind was so fogged, he couldn’t tell. 

“Come on, Daniel. Up and at ‘em! Big doin’s today.” 

Someone was shaking his shoulder.

He groaned and swatted at the hand without opening his eyes, but the offending hand was insistent.

“I’m awake,” he moaned from under the pillow. 

“No, you’re not. Get _up_.” 

Instinctively Daniel sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He didn’t bother opening his eyes, just waited for whoever was annoying him to go away. That damned hand caught him by the wrist and pulled him to his feet. 

Daniel forced his bleary eyes open, feeling as if someone had poured sand in them or set them on fire. Or both.

“God, Jack, what are you _doing_ here? It’s the middle of the night!” he groused, and turned around to crawl back into bed. 

Jack caught him by the arm and started to haul him upright again. 

Daniel twisted effortlessly out of his grip, bringing his right arm upward, then swinging both arms around to give his tormentor a good shove. He was on one knee on the bed when the impatient Colonel caught him roughly by the wrist and held on so tightly it hurt. 

Edging toward angry now, Daniel glared at the intruder, barely cracking his eyes open in the brightness of his room. “Leave me alone! I’m calling in sick today.” 

“Not _today_ , Daniel,” Jack returned, crossing his arms over his brown cable-knit sweater. “Inspection, remember? Everybody at their stations early in the day to answer questions as the tours come through. You gotta go, too. You can come back and lie down afterward.”

He frowned, hands moving down to his sides. “Or would you rather go to the infirmary? You look like shit.” 

“Oh, thanks. I needed to hear that right about now,” Daniel shot back sarcastically.  

He turned around, dug into the nightstand drawer for his migraine medication, slipped his sunglasses on his face and started shuffling toward the door with the Colonel in his wake. “I _really_ don’t feel like doing this, Jack.” 

“Suck it up and do it anyway.” Jack’s voice was gentle. His hand patted Daniel’s shoulder in sympathy, shepherding him toward the locker room. 

“Come on, we’ll get you some meds for the hangover—“ 

“I don’t have a hangover.” He held up the blister pack of Imitrex nasal spray. 

“Migraine?” 

Daniel nodded, squinting gaze on the floor. Mindlessly, he opened the packet, tipped his head back, and shot the spray into his nostril. The terrible flavor upset his stomach instantly and the corridor lighting was still way too bright. He squinted down at the floor, the empty package in one hand and the plastic delivery device in the other. 

“Bad one?” asked Jack softly, a note of sympathy in his voice. 

Daniel closed his eyes and nodded, letting Jack lead him down the corridor.

 _“_ Mother of _all_ migraines. Feels like my head is gonna explode.” His hands came up to his head, massaging his forehead and temples with the heels of his palms.

He staggered a little as he rounded the corner into the locker room and tossed the packaging into the nearest waste bin. 

“Maybe we should just go straight to the infirmary,” Jack amended, his voice filled with concern as he put hands on Daniel’s shoulders to steady him. 

“I’ll make it, Jack,” he growled. “Just let me get a shower, and I’ll be fine.” 

“Okay.” Jack patted him again, and he let him shuffle the rest of the way by himself. “I’ll be right out here if you need me. Gotta change for the big day.” 

Daniel grunted an acknowledgment and listlessly padded into the shower room. He peeled off his clothes, surprised to find himself still wearing the outfit he’d worn the previous day, and turned on the tap, bracing himself against the wall while the water heated up.

Once it was properly warm, he stepped under it.

The spray helped him wake up. By the time he finished, wrapped up in his robe and returned to the locker room for his clothes, he saw Jack now dressed in his Class A’s, pacing the floor and waiting on him. 

“I’m okay, Jack,” he insisted, grateful for his concern. The medication for his migraine had kicked in while he’d been in the shower, and he did feel a little better. He felt as if he could sleep for a month, but he was now reasonably awake and ready for another day.

“You go do your Colonel stuff and get ready for the bigwigs.” 

Jack gave him a little nod, looked him over, and headed for the door. “This is important stuff goin’ on today, Daniel. Everybody at their best, so wear your new suit,” he called over his shoulder as he left the room. 

Daniel frowned. Fatigues were usually the order of the day, and the memo hadn’t specified dress clothing. The fact that Jack was in his dress blues and had suggested Daniel dress up, too, let him know that this inspection was different from most of the others he’d been through over the years.

Which meant he’d need to go by and clean up his office ASAP. 

After putting on his suit, he let his fingers drift over the beautiful material and smiled slightly.

To be valued by people as fine as Janet, Jack, Sam and Teal’c was a wonderful thing. He was proud to be in their company, touched to have earned their love and respect, and this gift was perfect evidence of how they saw him. 

His smile faded and tears blurred his vision. He lifted his head and wiped them away, starting out of the locker room and toward the elevator.

If his teammates only knew the truth, they might not be so proud of hanging with someone who might fast be becoming unbalanced. 

If he could just get through this damned inspection without seeing things or hearing voices, he’d check himself into the infirmary and let somebody else figure out what the hell was wrong with him, hoping there was a cure.

* * *

“Doctor Jackson.” 

Daniel’s head came up off his desk instantly, a sheet of paper from the report he’d been reading stuck to his cheek.

“Here!” he blurted before he recognized the voice that had addressed him.

Jack, Sam and Teal’c stood on the far side of his desk.

Nervously peeling the paper from his face, which was flaming with embarrassment, he glanced up to see Sam smiling wistfully at him, looking sharp and bright-eyed in her dress blues.

Teal’c seemed inordinately proud, dressed in his charcoal grey Chulakian robes. Jack was every bit the cool Colonel, not a flicker of emotion in his expression, save for the glint of concern in his eyes. 

“Will you please come with us?” 

“Oh, God, did a tour come through while I was asleep? Jack, I’m sorry—“ 

“You’re not in trouble, Daniel. Just wake up, put on your best face and come with us.” Jack’s voice was unusually gentle and warm. 

Daniel stood up, straightened his tie, smoothed down his jacket and ran his fingers nervously through his hair, leaving some of it standing on end. He reached up to his face to check for glasses, found them there, and glanced down to check that his zipper was up and his shoes were on his feet.

He stepped around his desk, and Sam separated herself from the others, catching him as he started to go by her.

She combed his hair back down with her fingers. 

“There. That’s better.” Her smile faded a little, concern blossoming in her eyes. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m f—“ 

Jack’s eyebrows scrunched downward, cutting off the rest of his reflex response. 

“Um, I’ll be okay, Sam. Just a headache. A little tired, but that’s all.”

He forced a smile, and she took his arm at the elbow, escorting him with the others down the corridor to the elevator.

Jack punched the button for the 28th floor, and Daniel wondered why they were going down there. 

“Is the inspection over already?”

He glanced at his watch and saw that it was approaching 2:00 PM, right when the VIPs were supposed to be doing all the handshaking before they left. 

“Oh, no, the fun is just starting, Daniel,” Jack answered softly. 

Daniel glanced at the man beside him and saw a little smile toying at the corners of his mouth.   
Jack had a secret. The rest of them looked pretty damn smug, too. “Okay, what’s up?” 

“Nothing’s up,” Jack assured him. 

Daniel noticed he didn’t drop the ‘g,’ so the older man was in full Colonel mode. 

The doors parted, and the team exited together, traveling a short distance toward the embarkation room. A small group of ranking officers, the C.O.s of every active team on the roster, General Hammond and two special guests stood waiting for them in the hallway just outside the gate room.

The audience stood in neat rows in the corridor, no place to sit, and Jack led the team to a spot already cleared for them on the front row, right beside the guests of honor.

A small semicircle of space remained open before the big metal door and the wall on which it was hung. 

Daniel smiled, recognizing Catherine Langford and Ernest Littlefield, looking dapper in a dark suit, standing at the front beside General Hammond, and they smiled back. 

On some hidden signal that Daniel didn’t catch, all attention turned to the commander of the SGC. Catherine proudly glanced up at the wall beside the ‘gate room door. 

Daniel’s gaze followed, and he saw rows of team photographs on the wall beside it, including one taken of SG-1 the previous day.

Above those was a row of headshots of the first Abydos team, starting with Jack and ending with one of himself, in the order in which they had passed through the event horizon.

Above that were two large portraits of Doctor Littlefield, one from Catherine’s collection from 1945, and one made recently.

Beside those portraits was a brass plaque. 

General Hammond stood directly in front of the embarkation room door in his dress blues.

“Ladies and gentlemen, members of the SGC, honored guests,” he began. “In 1945, an artifact carefully kept out of public record was examined by a team of scientists working for the government in an attempt to discover weaponry useful in the military theater active in Europe and the Pacific during World War II. The first activation of the device we now call the Stargate occurred in January of 1945. At that time, no MALPs were available to determine conditions or location on the other side of the event horizon. Our scientists weren’t even sure what it was, or where it went.”

He smiled fondly. “One brave man volunteered to see what was on the other side, knowing it might cost him his life.” 

Ernest swallowed hard and covered Catherine’s hand with both of his, tears filling his eyes.

The haunted look returned.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, squeezing his fingers comfortingly.

“I’m right here,” she whispered to him. “This is real, and we’re together.” 

He nodded, quite obviously relieved. 

The General watched the elderly couple supporting each other, and continued with his speech.

“For fifty years Doctor Ernest Littlefield lived on an unknown, isolated world with only his memories for company, studying the profoundly important clearinghouse of knowledge where he found himself. By sheer accident, we discovered records of that mission a few years back and undertook to send a rescue party in the hopes that Doctor Littlefield might still be alive.”

Hammond beamed. “SG-1 brought him home, alive and well, from P3X-972, now reclassified under a new designation.” 

Cheers and whistles went up, along with a storm of applause, quite loud in the narrow space in which they were gathered. 

Ernest clutched tighter to Catherine’s hand, and Daniel patted the old man’s shoulder, offering what support he could. The elder scientist was weeping now, moved by the remembrance of his salvation. Daniel reached into his breast pocket and gave the man his fancy new handkerchief. 

Sam eased in front of Daniel, hooking her arm in the old man’s.

She led Ernest a few steps away to the front to stand by General Hammond, Catherine moving up to Ernest’s other side, still firmly holding his hand.

He struggled to compose himself and lift his head but tears still sparkled in his eyes.

He looked thoughtful and a little overwhelmed by emotion, staring at the floor. 

“It is in his honor,” Hammond continued when the noise began to die down, “that we dedicate this space to the intrepid men and women who regularly journey to unknown worlds, ready and willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of knowledge and the future safety of the human race. I present to you the Doctor Ernest Littlefield Wall of Honor, where the roster of all active teams at Stargate Command will be displayed. The plaque on the wall between Doctor Littlefield’s portraits reads, ‘ _This man was first through the Stargate, before an official Stargate Command was launched. In honor of his courage, we dedicate every discovery made as we travel to other worlds to the spirit of Dr. Littlefield’._ ” 

Ernest straightened up as he listened, and gradually a tiny smile quavered on his lips. 

Catherine whispered to her husband, telling him that she loved him, that she was proud of him. Ernest’s chin lifted, and that trembling smile firmed up. As he gazed at his wife, and his eyes began to blaze. 

“In the same way that Columbus, Magellan and Lewis and Clark opened up our world as they explored it in their day,” added the General, “so have the teams of Stargate Command explored and opened up the mysteries and marvels of the worlds in the Stargate system.”

He regarded the elderly couple beside him and smiled warmly. “They are the first vanguard of friendship and knowledge of the human race. They are ambassadors of Planet Earth, the best of the best. We can never repay them for their courage, but we can honor them in this small way, and tell them that we are fortunate to have such scholars and warriors leading the way into the galaxy.” 

He turned to offer Ernest his hand. “Congratulations, Doctor Littlefield. Well done.” 

Ernest shook his hand and turned to look up at the photos.

“It’s a good thing SG-1 didn’t take any pictures right when they found me,” he said slowly. “We couldn’t have put that one up there.” 

Catherine and the team all laughed, but nobody else got the joke. 

“I was alone on that planet for fifty years, you know,” Ernest explained to the rest of them. “I knew that, if I kept wearing the diving suit in which I left Earth, the only clothing I had with me, that it would eventually wear away to nothing, so… I took it off.”

He grinned a little, suddenly shy. “There wasn’t anyone around to see anyway. When SG-1 found me, I had completely forgotten about the convention of clothing. Wasn’t sure those people were really there for a few minutes.”

He chuckled a little, and everyone joined him. “Once I realized they weren’t hallucinations, I got dressed. I was going home.”  

He blinked back tears. “I came to realize early on that those who were in on the first Stargate experiment thought I was dead. I knew there would be no rescue mission and contented myself with researching the wealth of knowledge with which I found myself surrounded.”

Ernest shook his head, smiling. “A single human lifetime wasn’t long enough to understand all I found there. I wish we could go back.”  

He eyed Catherine and smiled broadly. “Ever the scientist, I know, my dear.”

The old man turned back to his audience. “But what we are learning through this technological marvel called the Stargate will hopefully make us better people, more cognizant of the greater scope of life. I am honored that you have all lauded me for my foolhardiness, but sometimes that’s what it takes to blaze trails where angels fear to tread. Thank you, General Hammond, ladies and gentlemen of Stargate Command… and thank you, my beloved wife, Catherine, for being there in my heart across a galaxy, during most of a lifetime spent apart.” 

Hammond shook his hand and smiled politely. After a few minutes of congratulations and admiration of the wall, he called everyone to attention.

“We also have another dedication to observe, so if you’ll all join me upstairs…”

He gestured toward the elevator and everyone began to file away.

Daniel remained where he was, close to the guests of honor. 

“Catherine, Ernest! Nobody told me you were coming,” he told them apologetically. “I’d have met you upstairs if I’d known.” 

“Yes, you would have, but they went to a lot of trouble to make this a surprise,” Catherine informed him after kissing his cheek. 

“It’s good to see you again, Daniel,” said Ernest. He caught Catherine’s hand as soon as Daniel released her and brought it to his lips, lacing their fingers together as he lowered their hands. The old man’s eyes were sparkling with joy, the haunted look that had once filled them now completely gone. 

“It’s good to see you again, too.  You two look great,”

Daniel breathed, glancing at the others all heading down the corridor toward the elevators. “Shouldn’t we be going with everybody else?”

He started to move away. 

Jack snagged his sleeve and held him back. “Let’s talk to Ernest for a minute. Let him bask a little.” 

“He might need a chair pretty soon, Jack,” Daniel suggested. “I think reminiscing about that particular adventure pretty much wore him out.” 

“Yeah. Catherine knows what to do,” he assured his friend. 

“So, what’s going on upstairs? And why didn’t I hear about all this?” He gestured toward the wall. “I could’ve helped.” 

Jack just gave him a mysterious little smile.

“We know,” he said quietly and ushered Daniel through the dissipating crowd to the wall. “You were needed elsewhere, Daniel. We wanted this to be a surprise.” 

“Well, it was. It’s wonderful, you guys.” He still felt a little cheated. “I just wish I could’ve been in on it.” 

“Don’t worry, Daniel. In a very big way, you were,” Sam assured him with a secretive smile. 

The team chatted with Ernest and Catherine until the hallway cleared.

Finally Ernest was ready to go and started toward the elevator. 

Daniel started to go with them, but Teal’c stepped in his way and shook his head.

“Not yet, DanielJackson,” he rumbled pleasantly.  “You will need to wait a moment and let us accompany you.” 

Suspicion exploded in Daniel’s mind. “Okay, what did you guys do? You’re all being awfully mysterious.” 

“Someone wishes to meet you, DanielJackson,” said Teal’c. 

“One of the brass,” added Sam.

They headed for the elevator, and she punched the call button, then stepped back to wait for the car to return after dropping off Ernest and Catherine upstairs. 

“Oh, well, okay, but I need to get back to work as soon as I’m done glad-handing. I have no idea how long I was asleep, but it was too long and I’ve got tons of work to finish.” Daniel was embarrassed to have fallen asleep at his desk on _that_ day in particular, especially during the middle of the day.

He’d slept through lunch, too, and his stomach was reminding him of that fact. 

Jack glanced at his noisy belly without comment, then back up into his eyes.  

“Sorry,” Daniel mumbled. “I’ll try to keep it quiet.”

They boarded the elevator, and Daniel saw Teal’c press the button for the 11th floor. “Are we leaving the base?” 

“Wait and see,” said Jack enigmatically. 

The elevator doors parted, and for a moment, Daniel couldn’t move.

The 11th floor had been transformed.

The corridor was no longer closed off by the partitions, and the area between the two elevators now encompassed a huge, formal semicircular room that took his breath away.  

Rich paneling covered the walls. Beautiful carpeting lay underfoot on the floors. The wall in the back was almost covered in photographs, including a big one of him at the focal point, flanked by the American and SGC flags.  

The Air Force seal dominated the center of the floor, emblazoned on the carpet and declaring this area a bastion of the United States Air Force. Toward the back of the room stood an imposing gray marble desk. Two Marine and one Air Force security officer in dress uniforms stood at attention behind the desk. 

Jack, Sam and Teal’c began to file out of the elevator, hands pressed against Daniel’s elbows and shoulders to guide him out with them.

Dazedly he stepped out, his gaze dropping from the photographs to the sea of people, most of them in Class A’s, everyone else in suits, standing in neat rows on either side of the room. 

A wide path had been left down the center of the room, showing off the colorful Air Force seal at room center. 

Daniel scanned the faces of those he passed as his team ushered him up the center aisle.

Jacob Carter/Selmak, Master Brata’c and Jonas Quinn smiled at him from the group on his right.

Every department head and ranking officer of the SGC was present with them.

On the left were familiar faces Daniel had seen at the SGC including the Secretary of Defense, the Air Force and Marine Joint Chiefs, the Senate Chairman of Appropriations, and last but not least, President Charles Kearney, Commander in Chief of the United States of America. 

Daniel’s mouth went dry. His brain fogged over. His eyes went so wide he couldn’t even blink. 

“Just keep walking,” Jack murmured in his ear. 

They guided him to stand at the front, to the right of the big gray marble desk.

General Hammond stood directly in front of it, eyeing the flagship team of the SGC with pride.

Daniel straightened his posture and lifted his chin, proud to be in their company among these auspicious guests. 

He stood with his hands at his sides and waited, stealing a glance at that big portrait of himself on the back wall.

After seeing the Littlefield presentation, it wasn’t hard to figure out who the guest of honor was for _this_ dedication.

Someone had gone to an _awful_ lot of trouble to get this done. Maybe a lot of someones. Warmth filled him up and overflowed. He started choking up, his throat closing up with emotion. 

Hammond took a step forward, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. He turned to his left, addressing the visiting dignitaries first.

“Mr. President, Mr. Secretary, Senators, Generals, members of the SGC, honored guests.” He turned back to face the entire assembly. “Welcome to Stargate Command.” 

He paused just the right length of time for dramatic effect, his steely eyes sweeping the assembly before him. 

“Eight years ago, we were fortunate enough to have a young man come through our doors without a clue of what to expect, other than a job doing translations for the US government,” he intoned, his eyes shifting to meet Daniel’s before moving back to the assembly.

“Doctor Daniel Jackson did what no one before him had been able to do – solve the mystery of the Giza cover stones. His discovery gave us the key to what the Stargate is, as well as the most basic information on how it worked, and all without even knowing such a device existed. After that staggering accomplishment, he volunteered to be among what we believed at the time to be the first exploratory mission through the Stargate. He was the only person capable of finding and deciphering the information needed for the return trip. He sent our boys home after helping to neutralize an alien threat terrorizing hundreds of worlds in our galaxy. We thought, when that first mission was over, that it was _over._ As we know now, we couldn’t have been more wrong.” 

He bowed his head for a moment, and then straightened slightly. “Since that time, we have had cause to travel to hundreds of worlds, make scores of new friends on planets far flung from our own. We have also fought against the threat of aliens who have attacked us on many fronts, winning battles here, losing others there.  

“We are here today to acknowledge, in our own way, the sacrifices made by the men and women of Stargate Command on behalf of the entire human race, and in the interests of our alien allies. Ladies and gentlemen, at this time I’d like to present the officer responsible for this memorial to the fallen of the SGC, Major Samantha Carter.” 

He turned to his right, made eye contact with Sam, and stepped back to allow her space to come forward. 

Daniel stood there, staring at the floor and blushing to his hairline. He had never expected this, wasn’t prepared for it. He had to admit to himself that the attention felt wonderful, like he actually mattered, and that he was being appreciated for once.  He lifted his head to watch as Sam took the floor, standing straight and tall as she surveyed the small crowd who had come to this dedication. 

“I worked on the Stargate long before Doctor Catherine Langford went to seek out Doctor Daniel Jackson,” she began. “Some of the best minds in astrophysics, engineering, computer science and several other branches of intelligencia slaved over that enigmatic device downstairs, making a little progress here, a little progress there. What we _couldn’t_ do, however, was figure out exactly what it was, what it did or how to make it work.”

She fondly regarded the man a few steps to her right. “Daniel did in _two weeks_ what our think tank couldn’t manage in two _years_ , without ever having laid eyes on the device itself. In fact, without even knowing it existed.” 

A murmur of approval went through the crowd, and Sam paused for it to wane. 

“Daniel excels at thinking outside the box. He was literally light years ahead of everyone else in the archaeological community, and they shot his theories down and turned their backs on him. That was when he came to us and opened up the entire galaxy to humanity. Doctor Langford saw something in his work that every one of his peers missed. She believed in him when no one else did, and hoped he might be able to help us with this puzzle.”  

She glanced sadly at the floor for a moment. “Little did any of us know at that time just how significant a contribution Daniel would make to human knowledge over the next eight years. Those of us who are close to him wish we could go out and tell his peers what a genius he is and help him earn his rightful place that he so richly deserves, but we can’t. Daniel accepts the fact that he is dismissed in that circle of academicians and concentrates on what matters, on the work we do here.  

“He has gone for eight years without any kind of recognition for his contributions, while those around him receive promotions, commendations and medals for their service in what Daniel has called, ‘the greatest endeavor of humanity’.”

She hesitated and dropped her head, obviously struggling with her emotions.

When she spoke again her voice was huskier with remembered grief.

“And then last year, we lost Daniel for what we believed was the _last_ time. He acted, as he always does, with no regard for himself, and saved millions of people on another world by his quick thinking and courage. Then he came home to die.” 

Her chin tipped up proudly. “We said goodbye to him and let him go.”

She paused, swallowing hard. Taking a deep breath, she went on, her voice growing increasingly stronger.

“There was no memorial service, no period of mourning. He was simply gone, and we believed then that he would never be back. We went through his things, kept some as mementos, and gave the rest away to charity. Only I couldn’t let go. Losing Daniel that last time drove home to me the loss of so many who have fallen under the banner of the SGC.”  

She turned and glanced behind her, eyes sweeping the many photographs on the wall, before turning back to the crowd.

“And we will lose many more before we find the answer to the conflict with the aliens who still threaten us. Some of these men and women I never knew, but in putting this memorial together, I have learned a great deal about them. We should _all_ know their names and remember where and how they died, because they gave their lives for _us.”_  

With a gentle smile, Sam met Daniel’s eyes. “Some of them, more than once.” 

He saw the affection and admiration there and smiled back, struggling to keep from crying. 

“What we deal with here at the SGC are extraordinary circumstances,” she explained. “What we once believed impossible occurs often enough for some of us to shrug it off without a second thought, like resurrection from the dead and ascension to higher planes.” She smiled again, then grew somber. “But no one on a team can ever _count_ on coming back, once we step through that ‘gate. We can’t _guarantee_ on having the luxury of tomorrow. Each of us keeps our personal affairs in order and commits ourselves to this cause with everything that we are. Then, if we are called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice, all we can ask is that we not be forgotten.” 

She glanced down at a sheet of paper in her hands. “When Daniel died for the _sixth_ time...” 

A murmur of startled surprise rippled through the audience. 

Daniel glanced up at the wall.

Aside from the big picture of him at center, he counted six smaller ones, all different poses, including the one of him on the camel in Egypt.

He couldn’t read the plaque beneath it because it was too far away, but intended to check it out a little closer when this ceremony was over… provided he could see through the mist in his eyes. 

“...an idea came to mind for a way in which we could acknowledge the fallen that would keep their memory alive within these walls, until such time as their sacrifices can be made public.

“From today onward, any visitor having the clearance to arrive on the 11th floor of this installation will be greeted by these images of those we have lost, to whom we owe so much. Any who see these photographs will be reminded of the fact that these were _real_ people, people of integrity and strength, who paid the ultimate price so that we might enjoy our freedom a little longer. 

“This memorial didn’t happen overnight,” she added with a weary smile. “The concept was supported by our people from here all the way to Washington. It took a lot of man hours to design and complete, requiring nearly ten months to garner necessary support, acquire funding and then actually put it all together. Now, instead of a nondescript corridor joining two elevator shafts, separated by an airman at a tiny desk, we have this elegant new entry station that reflects a measure of the true importance of Stargate Command.” 

Applause went up all around them. Several people toward the back cheered.

Daniel felt his face heat up and studied the brand new carpet underfoot. 

When the noise subsided, Sam beamed. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Doctor Daniel Jackson Memorial Wall. I’d like to read to you what the parchment beside his portrait, behind me, says.” She cleared her throat and her voice inched up in volume as she began.

 

_“Daniel Alexander Melburn Nicholas Jackson, Ph.D  
_

_“He gave us the final key to the Stargate, and through his efforts, contributed to the enrichment and continued success of Stargate Command. He acted as translator, cultural specialist, historian and diplomat on the flagship first contact team, SG-1, as we of the SGC explored the stars. But more than that, he was our friend, a constant source of inspiration, dedication, and support to all who entered this facility. His tenacity was unequalled in our ranks, never giving up when those around him had already done so. He willingly relinquished his life on numerous occasions, choosing to be the one making the ultimate sacrifice for the many, and it is in his honor that this memorial to the fallen of the SGC is dedicated.  
_

_“Wherever you are, Daniel, our hearts go with you.”_  

 

A sprinkling of applause sounded again. 

Sam straightened up taller and grinned, eyeing familiar faces in the crowd.

“When the idea for this wall was first conceived ten months ago, Daniel was no longer with us. We have the very great honor of having him back with us now. We have undoubtedly embarrassed him with this memorial today. He isn’t a man who dreams of glory, and I’m sure he doesn’t believe he deserves any of this.”  

She gazed at him for a moment, then turned back to make eye contact with Senator Kinsey, standing to one side near the President.

“Simply by counting the number of photos of Daniel on that wall, not including the honorary portrait between the flags, I believe you’ll agree he’s quite deserving of an honor such as this.” 

Sam held out a hand toward Daniel, and he went forward to take it.

She pulled him into a hug instead.

“Welcome home, Daniel,” she said in his ear. He could hardly hear her for the applause. 

He just held her for a moment, touched and mortified all at the same time. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do and just stood there when she let him go.

She stepped aside and drew him with her, back near the desk between herself and the General, holding his hand a moment longer to indicate he should stay there. 

General Hammond glanced to the side and gave a quick nod, then stepped forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, it is my very great honor to present to you the President of the United States, Mr. Charles Kearney.”  

He stepped back, and a tall, gray haired man from the small group on the right came forward.

The President was broad shouldered and fit, with an air of elegance and self assurance, his face lined with care but still ruggedly handsome. He had the bearing of someone who had once been in the military and the clear-eyed expression of an intelligent man used to giving orders.

Kearney smiled broadly at Daniel as he came forward to address the crowd. 

Two men in black suits were posted beside the elevators that were the only entrances to the room. Two others stood a little behind the President and to the side, never looking directly at the man, his ever-present Secret Service bodyguard on their toes, scanning the crowd for any sign of threat.

Every other military officer in the room stood equally vigilant in the presence of this man. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for inviting me here today,” he began, his Minnesota accent unmistakable. His brown eyes were somber but warm. “It is my privilege to offer the thanks of a grateful world to some of the heroes who daily grace your halls. Hidden away beneath this mountain, you guard a secret that the rest of the world is not yet ready to know, offering up your very lives in silence to protect our freedom. There is no word of thanks, no symbol of honor great enough to convey our gratitude for that.” 

He glanced at a small teak box in his hand, then to one side to meet Jack O’Neill’s eyes before facing the assembly again. “The men and women in our military go into the service of this country fully aware that they may be called into battle, to lay their lives on the line for others.”

Kearney made eye contact with Daniel.

“Everyday citizens live their lives performing their jobs, most of whom, aside from our police and firefighters, never think their work might keep them from coming home again. We are proud of the handful of scholars and civilian experts who aid our military in this incredible undertaking; who, without thought of reward or glory, perpetually covered in a shroud of secrecy, willingly stand beside our soldiers and offer their lives as well.” 

Again, Daniel felt a lump rise in his throat.

He glanced at the wall, at Robert Rothman’s picture.

Grief rose and was quietly tucked away. 

President Kearney paused until Daniel looked back at him.

“Most academicians never dream that there will ever come a day when they’ll be standing in the middle of a battleground, taking fire from enemy soldiers. But those here at the SGC do it often, and it is time we said ‘thank you’ for their willingness to put their expertise, their knowledge, their very lives, where they are so desperately needed.”

He turned back to the crowd and held up the little box for everyone to see. 

Daniel studied the medal in Kearney’s hand. An ornate gold eagle was pinned onto the short blue ribbon on which the medallion hung. 

“This is the Medal of Freedom,” Kearney explained. “It is the highest civilian honor that our country can offer, established in 1945 by President Truman to recognize notable service during World War II. President Kennedy revived the medal in 1963 for distinguished civilian service during peacetime. Each year, a panel chooses recipients of this award, but they are a distinguished few; educators and authors, diplomats and scientists, who work diligently toward making our world a better place for everyone.” 

He looked down at the teak box in his hand, then over his shoulder at the biggest of the framed pictures. “If you’ll notice, ladies and gentlemen, the commemorative portrait of Doctor Jackson is in a shadow-box. Between the photograph and the parchment there is a medal hung over the matting between them.”

He turned back to the crowd, his voice touched with a trace of awe.

“That is _also_ a Medal of Freedom, awarded to Doctor Jackson posthumously about six months ago, for his part in the very first Stargate mission.”

He turned to face Daniel. “Doctor Jackson, if you please.”

He held out one hand in invitation. 

Daniel trudged stiffly forward, heart pounding, teeth clenched to try to keep his chin from quivering.

This was all _too much_!

He stopped when he was a foot away from the President, knowing what was coming next.

Kearney opened the glass cover on the teak presentation box and lifted the medal out. He handed the box to General Hammond, who replaced it on the desk just behind him, and then the President of the United States unfastened the clip at the back of the blue ribbon. 

“Doctor Jackson, it is my great _personal_ honor to award you this second Medal of Freedom, for your many acts of heroism, not the least of which was your courageous effort to prevent a catastrophic event in the country of Kelowna on P2S...”

He frowned and glanced at Jack. 

“...4C3,” Daniel murmured, leaning slightly closer. He glanced over his shoulder at Jonas Quinn, who grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

Even at this distance, Daniel could see the other man had tears in his eyes. 

Kearney smiled and nodded.

“P2S-4C3. While I don’t pretend to understand exactly what happened to you, Doctor Jackson, I _do_ know it was extraordinary and unprecedented and that a great many people owe you their lives.”

He fastened the medal over Daniel’s tie, securing it at the nape of his neck, then extended his right hand in congratulations.

“Doctor Jackson, to my knowledge, you are the only person in the history of this country to have ever received _two_ of these awards. Congratulations.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Daniel said with a smile, firmly shaking his President’s hand.

He was embarrassed, elated and shamed all at once. SG-1 had accomplished a great deal in the conflict against the System Lords, and he was proud of that achievement, but shadowing that was that undercurrent of failure that still ate at him during moments of introspection. 

Recognition such as this was something he had always dreamed of achieving, but he had given that up when the academic world had turned its back on him.

Now, being lauded in front of these people was almost more than he could bear.

The rest of the world be damned!

The only people whose opinions mattered to Daniel Jackson were in that room, and they were telling him how proud they were of him. 

Sam was responsible for the memorial; that was easy enough to guess. One look at Jack’s face told him who had found a way for him to earn the medals. Jack was proud of him. So were Sam, Teal’c, Hammond, Janet Fraiser; everyone he most respected was looking back at him with honor in their eyes. 

That was priceless, and Daniel felt a profound sense of joy filling him. 

Daniel couldn’t think of anything to say aside from a simple ‘thank you’, so he accepted the Medal of Freedom, posed for pictures with President Kearney and then stepped back beside Sam.  

“As we have made our uncertain way across the galaxy, we have made both friends and foes,” Kearney continued. “It is the greatest triumph of all to make a friend of one who was once an enemy, to have one who once fought against us choose to stand and fight at our side.”

He turned to his right. “Teal’c of Chulak, it is with the greatest respect that I ask you to come forward.” 

Daniel smiled, not surprised to feel his throat close completely, clogged with emotion as his friend went forward to stand beside the President of his country. 

“The United States of America is honored to have you as an ally, Teal’c, and for your unselfish service and your many acts of heroism, we present to you this Medal of Freedom in gratitude for your loyalty and bravery. My wish for you is that one day, you will see your people become free from tyranny. Congratulations.” 

He shook Teal’c’s hand and reached way up to place the ribbon around the Jaffa’s neck, settling it in place and lifting the medal out over the cowl on Teal’c’s robe. 

“Thank you, PresidentKearney. It has been my great honor to aid in the cause of the Tau’ri,” he intoned, nodding graciously.

He retreated back to his spot after the handshake and photographs were taken. 

“Major Samantha Carter,” Kearney called.  

Daniel could see the medal in his hand, suspended from a short blue ribbon. Beneath a blue field bearing thirteen stars hung a small brass bar with the word ‘VALOR’ embossed on it. Below that was the winged double-headed trident backed by lightning bolts that was the same as the charge on the Air Force shield. Attached beneath that was an upside-down five-pointed star bearing the head of the Statue of Liberty. The star’s five points were laced with laurel leaves, a symbol of honor since the days of the Roman Empire. 

Sam came forward, beaming. 

“This is late in coming but well deserved,” said the President with a smile. “I present to you the Medal of Honor, awarded to you this day for helping to save this world from certain annihilation. Your quick thinking under tremendous pressure prevented the impact of a meteor set by our enemies on a collision course for our planet. Your many heroic actions as a member of SG-1 are a debt that your country – that your _world_ – can never repay. It is with a profound sense of gratitude that we award you the Medal of Honor. Well done, Major.” 

He placed the medal around her neck, settling it just beneath her collar, and she stepped back to salute him. He returned the gesture with a smile. 

“Thank you, Mr. President. It has been my privilege to serve, sir,” she said quietly as she shook his hand, then stepped back into place beside Daniel. 

He took her hand and held onto it, almost overcome with pride, but not wanting to interrupt the festivities. There would be time for hugs and congratulations later. He couldn’t say anything at the moment, anyway, and turned back to watch the presentation of the next award. 

General Hammond handed Kearney the next medal.

“Colonel O’Neill,” the President called formally. Then he chuckled as the officer named stepped forward. “Jack.” 

The Colonel’s face was a mask of discipline. Class A’s without a wrinkle, back ramrod straight, he stood at attention, eyeing his Commander in Chief without a flicker of expression. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, Colonel O’Neill and I go way back,” Kearney said quietly, a slow smile spreading across his face. “We served together on an Air Force Special Ops team and knew each other long before that as boys in Minnesota. A man couldn’t ask for a better friend. A country couldn’t ask for a better soldier. Jack may not always follow the rules, but he gets the job done in his own inimitable way – and God help anybody who threatens his family, his friends or his country.”  

Kearney shook his head, glancing down at the medal in his hand. “This should have been awarded to you eight years ago, after the first Abydos mission, but the Medal of Honor is a public award. It has only been through the advent of keeping a second classified set of books for this program that we can make this presentation to you, Jack, but I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.” 

He reached up and clasped the ribbon around Jack’s neck, settling the medallion on its short ribbon in place over the knot on Jack’s tie and patting him fondly on the shoulder.

“Congratulations, Colonel O’Neill, from a grateful nation. From a grateful _world.”_  

They saluted each other, Jack’s hand snapping up with military precision, Kearney’s gesture equally crisp. 

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Jack said as he shook his hand, then hugged him, breaking into a broad grin. “Charlie, you’re such a sap,” he murmured into the other man’s ear as he pulled away. 

Daniel watched in awe, fighting back tears. He knew how important that particular medal was to Jack. It was the Big Cheese, the Brass Ring that every soldier dreams of earning and few ever did.

“All right, _Jack,”_ he breathed.

He felt Sam’s arm go around his shoulders in a hug, and he squeezed her back. 

Jack’s face composed once again.

The President smiled fondly and the Colonel stepped back into his group as the next medals were announced. 

“These next ladies and gentlemen cannot accept their awards because they are no longer with us,” the President intoned, “nor can their families accept for them, since the awards are still classified, so we ask that Doctor Jackson accept them on their behalf. Those in the military who are receiving Purple Hearts and other awards that need not remain under classified status will have these commendations presented to their families at a later date.”

He gestured to the wall behind him. “Classified medals will be hung beside the portraits of the valiant soldiers and civilians who earned them, until such time as they can be publicly awarded to their next of kin.” 

Daniel stepped forward again.   
”Doctor Robert Rothman, the Medal of Freedom…” Kearney began, enumerating the scientist’s worthwhile deeds while assigned to other teams.  

Daniel’s heart was heavy as the names were called for some of the others being recognized, whose medals would be hung up on the wall after the ceremony. He carefully handed them to Sam, who took them to a small table at the back wall for later display.

He was proud to be enumerated among the honored in this group.  

 _This endeavor,_ he reminded himself, _is the accomplishment of my lifetime, my greatest contribution to humanity. If I do nothing else, my participation here has earned me a place in history._  

There was something incredibly satisfying about that. 

He concentrated on the list of names being read, reminding himself of their faces, remembering moments with them while they were alive, and also having to watch some of them die. 

After the last medal was awarded, President Kearney gave way to General Hammond as the final speaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests, we are thankful that you could all join us here today for this auspicious occasion. We invite you to take one final look at this memorial and contemplate its meaning for a moment. Afterward, we hope you’ll stay and congratulate the surviving honorees. Our staff will be available to answer any questions you may have. Please join us afterward in the briefing room on the 27th floor for coffee and refreshments.” 

A feeling of satisfaction filled Daniel. He turned with everyone else to view the memorial wall in silence, scanning every face and committing each one to memory.

This was a good thing, a statement to any who saw it that this was a costly endeavor; that those who walked these halls were people who could be trusted at your back. 

Beside him, a lone voice rose in song.

Teal’c stood with hands clasped against his robes, eyes closed. This was the traditional acknowledgement of a fallen warrior among the Jaffa of Chulak, sung in their language, and as Daniel listened, he realized Teal’c was pausing between the lines, leaving time for Daniel to translate for the rest of the audience. 

Daniel fell into the rhythm immediately, echoing the haunting tune with English phrases so those around them could appreciate the sentiment as well.

 

_“In the silence, hear the sound_

_Of this great warrior falling down._

_In the darkness, see the light_

_Of his spirit, burning bright._

_He will lead us, with our souls,_

_To victory, our shining goal._

_He is gone, but he will be_

_Forever in our memory._

_In the silence, hear the sound_

_Of one brave warrior falling down.”_

 

Teal’c’s deep voice took on a surprising softness as he sang.

When he finished he opened his eyes and stared at the wall for a moment, his grief for the lost evident in his expression, one muscle twitching in his jaw. 

“Thank you, Teal’c,” whispered Daniel, touching his friend’s sleeve. 

The big guy turned slightly toward him and offered a regal bow.

“Now you know this song, DanielJackson,” he said huskily. “Perhaps you will sing it for me when it is my time.” 

Daniel swallowed hard. “If I’m still around, absolutely.” He smiled.

Teal’c asked for so little and gave so much. “Jaffa live longer than humans, you know.” 

“But we are at war. There are no guarantees of tomorrow, as MajorCarter said.” 

“So we celebrate today.” He embraced Teal’c firmly, then turned to smile at Sam.

 Daniel moved around the room shaking hands with those who had come to see him on that special day. He took the time to let them each person know how much they meant to him. He hugged Catherine and Ernest and eventually made his way back to his team at the front, now milling around with everyone else. Jack shook his hand, then pulled him into a back-slapping hug. 

“Way to go, Danny,” his friend whispered in his ear. “Congratulations.” 

Daniel couldn’t seem to speak. He just smiled and nodded back at the man. 

People broke into small groups for conversation, many of them moving toward the wall to look at the pictures and discuss the lost ones.

It seemed everyone wanted to talk to Daniel, to ask him questions, look at his medal, have photos taken with him and shake his hand.

Embarrassment soon faded into enthusiasm and finally weariness.

He watched as Sam posted herself beside the table where the medals had been laid for the fallen, answering questions and recounting in detail how every person featured in one of the pictures had lived and died. 

Daniel listened as she talked about each of them, recounting endearing or quirky things about their personalities, bringing them to life for those asking about them.

That warmed Daniel deeply, especially when she spoke about those on the first team, people whom she had never met. It seemed as if she knew them all, as if they had been close friends. Daniel supposed, after all the research she had done on them, perhaps they had been, after a fashion.

He admired that about her, that she cared so much. 

Looking up at his own pictures on that wall, however, his smile faded and he found himself angling toward the elevator, seeking escape. 

Jack appeared at his elbow just as he pressed the call button. “Ready to go?” he asked quietly. 

Daniel didn’t make eye contact, just stood facing the elevator doors. “Yeah. I’m tired. Feels like I can’t get enough sleep lately.” 

They stepped into the car together and Jack pushed the button for the 18th floor, where Daniel’s office was located. 

“I was hoping to go back to my room,” Daniel murmured. “I just wanna go to bed.” 

“You sure you don’t wanna go to the infirmary? You look pretty beat.” 

Nodding, Daniel closed his aching eyes, gritty from fatigue and lack of sleep. He felt sapped, utterly exhausted. “Yeah. Just some rest. That’s all I need.” 

“I’ll come by and check on you later.” Jack pushed the button for the 25th floor and turned to study his younger teammate.

Jack continued to stare at him, his brows pinched in a quizzical expression. 

“What?” asked Daniel. 

“I was just wonderin’. Did your parents do that to you on purpose?” 

Daniel frowned, not getting the question. “Do what?” 

“Your name.” 

“I was named for my grandfathers, Alexander and Nicholas, and for my dad, Melburn. Daniel is the name they chose for me. History was big in my family, in case you hadn’t noticed. Everything had meaning.” 

“No, I meant the initials. Do you think they realized what they spelled?” 

Daniel snorted softly. “They probably never even noticed. You know, ancient societies put a lot of power into our names. I wonder if my initials have the same impact.” 

“DAMN Jackson,” Jack repeated with a slight smile. “So every time I said ‘damn it, Daniel’...” 

“You were calling me by name, after a fashion.” He grinned. “Who dug up that little nugget of Jackson trivia, by the way? I went to a lot of trouble to lose the long name.” 

“Our Major Carter, of course. She went through all your records with a fine-toothed comb while you were... um... dead. Probably knows _everything_ about you by now. The woman’s relentless, Daniel! She gets hold of something and never lets go.”

O’Neill smiled fondly. “Carter did good, huh?” 

A wide grin swept across Daniel’s face and his head bobbed up and down again. “ _Way_ more than I deserve, Jack.” 

“Depends on who you’re askin’.” 

The two best friends connected for a moment, blue eyes meeting brown, asking and answering, that uncanny understanding passing between them without a word or gesture, just a simple look that no one else would have been able to translate. 

_What do I deserve, Jack?_

_Way more than a couple medals and a memorial wall._

_I have all I need, old friend._

_Same here, buddy. Medals are just brass and that wall’s just concrete and fancy paneling._  

Jack’s fingers briefly touched the medal at his throat as he met Daniel’s steady gaze.

Then he straightened up, hand moving down to his side, his mouth quirking into a half-suppressed grin. His eyes twinkled in merriment as he said, “They named a wall after you, but _I_ got a whole Asgard battleship!” 

“Yeah, for about five minutes before they blew it up,” Daniel shot back with a chuckle. “I think my wall’s gonna be there for a while.”

The elevator deposited him on the proper floor and he strode out of the car without a backward glance, his mood lighter, and his heart comfortably full.

“See you later, Jack,” he called over his shoulder. 

O’Neill left to return to the festivities upstairs. 

Daniel went straight to his room, carefully laid the medal aside on his nightstand, then stripped down to his underwear and climbed into his bed for a nap.

* * *

It was evening before the last of the VIPs were gone and the base returned to normal operations. Everyone seemed to heave a collective sigh of relief, especially Jack O’Neill. The extra security measures were always tremendous stressors, and now that those were relaxed everyone could chill out a little.

He changed out of the Class A’s and into base fatigues for the rest of the day because he couldn’t be anything but on his toes in his dress blues. 

He headed down to the 25th floor, intent on checking on Daniel, but just as he entered the elevator, the claxons went off and Sergeant Davis announced an unauthorized incoming wormhole over the PA system.

Punching the button for 28, Jack raced to the control room, arriving seconds before the General.

He stood by, watching the screen for an IDC to appear, aware that there were several teams off-world but not expecting any of them home so soon. 

As Hammond stood beside him, both of them heard the audible clang of something being destroyed against the trinium shield.

Moments later, the wormhole disengaged, and the control room filled with silence.

They waited, watching to see if the ‘gate would activate again, but nothing happened. 

“I want an investigative team up here ASAP,” Hammond ordered Davis. “I want to know what just flattened against the iris.”  
”Yes, sir,” Davis responded crisply, already reaching for the phone. 

“Anybody we know?” asked Jack. 

Hammond glanced down at the monitor on the control panel. “I sure hope not.  I’ve got Major Carter working on a back-tracing program. Hopefully, one day soon we’ll be able to determine the coordinates of the planet dialing in, but unfortunately, we aren’t quite there yet. We’ll need to test any trace elements left on the iris to hopefully determine what disintegrated against it, and then do our best to guess who knocked on our door.” 

Jack knew the drill, but those bangs and dings against the iris always heightened the tension in the control room for a while afterward.

“It’s a good thing that didn’t happen when the President was here,” Jack mused. 

The General nodded. “I’ll be here for another hour or two awaiting the results of the tests. I expect you were getting ready to go home yourself?” 

Jack nodded, glancing at the iris. “I was gonna go check on Daniel first. He wasn’t well today.” 

Hammond nodded, his face drawn with concern. “I noticed he’s been looking tired lately. SG-1’s been on stand down for two weeks. He should be well rested by now. Is he ill?” 

“Had a bad migraine this morning,” Jack informed him. “ _Really_ bad. Could hardly walk.” 

“Has he been to see Doctor Fraiser?” 

“Not yet.” 

“See that he does. I hope he’s feeling better soon.”

Hammond smiled a little. “We managed to surprise him after all, didn’t we, Colonel?” 

Jack grinned broadly. He stuck his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I think we blew him away. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so proud and embarrassed. He was _blushing_ , for cryin’ out loud! Practically speechless for a minute there, which is so _not_ Daniel.” 

Hammond chuckled. “I noticed that myself. Well, he deserves that honor, and so much more. I was pleased we could do that for him. Have a good evening, Jack.” 

“You, too, sir.” Jack returned to the elevator and stepped out on the 25th floor, heading straight for Daniel’s room. 

He opened the door and found the younger man passed out beneath the covers, sleeping so soundly he didn’t even hear the door open.

Jack withdrew without waking him, choosing to let his friend have the rest he so obviously needed.

If Daniel were still out of it in the morning, he’d take him to the infirmary personally. 

Jack stopped by the locker room to change back into his civvies, then presented himself to the spiffy new security desk on the 11th floor to sign out for the night, before going topside for the trip home.

* * *

Daniel’s eyes snapped open. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, squinting to clarify the numbers, and realized it must be almost sunset outside. For five hours he’d been dead to the world. He was still incredibly tired, but already felt much better, much less exhausted. 

He was fully awake the instant he opened his eyes, and as he sat up in the bed, he could feel the changes coming upon him.

His heart was pounding in his chest, hands shaking, head tingling with that strange euphoria that accompanied the adrenaline surge that now always signaled sundown to him.

The familiar images coalesced in his mind, prompting him to get up, go out and do battle.  

His hands curled into fists and he screwed his eyes shut, trying to blot out the sights, knowing even as he did that they would not go away just because he willed them to.

The only way to get relief was to go out and _answer_ the call, to do as he was bidden and save the lives that hung in the balance. 

His heart filled with dread and fear and something akin to a primal excitement as the surfaces in his room began to glow with an inner light. Daniel came to his feet and prowled his small room like a caged tiger. Fists clenched at his sides, head bowed in intensely focused thought, he already knew he would be out on the streets again tonight. 

Never had the internal prompting been as strong as it was now, controlling him, filling him with courage, a sense of purpose and a deep belief in his abilities.

Whatever he had been before he first laid eyes on the Stargate, he was now a warrior in every sense of the word. Those abilities, well laced with a deeply ingrained spirit of protectiveness, filled him up and pushed him toward the door. He was powerless to resist.

He didn’t really want to hold himself back, because he knew what he was doing out there on the streets was important and needed.

Lives depended on him, and _no one_ could argue against that. 

Part of him _liked_ doing this. Daniel got off on the rush of one-on-one battles. He loved preventing those terrible things he had come to see in his mind. The reasoning part of his brain reminded him of the danger, not only to himself, but also to this entire endeavor hidden beneath the mountain. 

“Collateral damage,” he growled softly, the powerful prod to action tempered now with the risk he was taking.  

He _had_ to stop doing this vigilante thing, or he was in real danger of getting himself killed.  

He also ran the risk of getting caught by the police and hauled in for questioning.

His life couldn’t stand the sort of scrutiny they’d be giving him, and General Hammond would have no choice but to pull him out of an interrogation for reasons of national security.

Then the shit would really hit the fan when Hammond got him back to the base. 

Until then, until someone got lucky and caught him, Daniel felt compelled to go out and help people.

As long as no one figured it out, as long as he wasn’t killed or captured, he was free to offer his strength and skills to those who needed them.  

He lifted his chin, filled with steel and fire, and stopped pacing.

His mind was made up. 

Face set, he padded into his tiny bathroom and put in his rarely used disposable contact lenses, needing sharp vision without the hindrance of glasses on his face.  

Striding to his bureau, determination burning like a flame in his belly, he pulled open a drawer and tossed some clothes on the unmade bed.

Dressing quickly in jeans, black T-shirt and his work boots, he threw on a jacket and headed up to the 11th floor.

It startled him a little to see the new entry station, part of his mind still expecting to see the short corridor and tiny security desk. 

He walked purposefully up to the marble edifice. As he acknowledged the guard on duty smiling at him, a halo of light emanated from the man’s body. The glow was stronger than Daniel had seen the previous night, and he didn’t think that was due to a change in the young soldier.

 The difference was in Daniel’s vision, part of this strange gift that had been developing in his body over the past few weeks. 

“Evening, Doctor Jackson,” he called. 

“Evening, Lieutenant Norris,” Daniel returned. The strength in his voice surprised him a little, but his hand was shaking from the adrenaline overload as he signed out. “I won’t be back until late.” 

The soldier gave him a sly smile, most likely thinking the archaeologist had a hot date. “Yes, sir. Have a good time.” 

“Right,” growled Daniel. He wasn’t going out to have fun. He was leaving because he had a life to save. Maybe more than one. 

As soon as the elevator opened, Daniel had his cell phone to his ear, calling for a taxi. By the time he had raced to the main ‘gate, the car was waiting for him. He waved to the guards, climbed into the car and sat in the back as the city sprang up around the street, heading north into the heart of Colorado Springs.

The driver’s halo brightened as they drove until the cabbie was little more than an outline in motion, a thin containment for the radiant soul within him. 

It was beautiful and Daniel smiled, enjoying the light show.

Any fear he had felt earlier was now long gone.

* * *

Teal’c read the list of names aloud to the darkness, a small penlight shining down on the sheets of paper in his hand. He spoke in his native tongue, reciting the names of the fallen boldly and with great pride. When he finished, he read the words he had written to them, his tribute to their bravery and sacrifice. 

For a moment he stood in the cool night air in silence, listening to the distant sounds of the alien city around him.

Then he knelt down to the sheltered stone alcove where a small fire was burning and deposited both the list and the letter into the heart of the flame. He watched it catch, the fire burning suddenly brighter and hotter as it devoured the paper. Carefully tending it to prevent any sparks from floating away on the breeze, he guarded the fireplace until only ashes remained. 

“It is a good day to die,” he whispered proudly. 

He stood and raised his face to the night sky, gazing up at the stars, arms spread, a wide smile spreading across his lips. 

“Behold!” he cried to the heavens. “These mighty warriors come to battle the darkness! Let them shine like a thousand suns. We celebrate their lives among us. We take pride in their brave deaths, for they have died that others may live. Honor them! Remember them always!” 

His heart was pounding in his chest, his soul filled with the glory of the lost ones. He sent that joy up to the sky with the ashes of the list of the fallen. Slowly, gently, he felt himself settle and empty, satisfied that tradition had been met and that those warriors were now at peace. 

He reached back and lifted the cowl over the top of his head, framing his face in the dark gray fabric. Turning, he began to make his way down the mountain to return to his quarters.

He glanced at the mouth of the tunnel and saw a lone figure leaving, recognizing the man by his gait. 

DanielJackson was leaving the base. He seemed to be in a hurry, his head pushed forward as his brisk walk became an easy jog.

Teal’c knew that particular stride.

The scholar looked like a man on a mission, an urgent mission, and he would let nothing get in his way. When he was that intensely focused, Teal’c believed DanielJackson to be almost unstoppable. 

Teal’c stopped, narrowing his eyes as he studied the rapidly retreating figure disappearing into the darkness. 

Pieces fell into place. Things he hadn’t considered suddenly made perfect sense. It _was_ possible that the Jaffa was wrong about this wild idea, but just as he chided himself for thinking DanielJackson could be The Man in Black, he felt a shiver of dread.

He would ask DanielJackson when he returned but until then, he would compare the log at the security desk to known dates and times to see if his theory was at least plausible. 

He hurried down the mountain, both eager and alarmed about what he might discover when facts were compared to facts.

* * *

It was nearing nine o’clock when the cab dropped him near his destination, but Daniel was too wired to be weary. Doing this threatened everything he’d worked to help build at the SGC for the last… well, six out of eight years. Yet it was that last year he’d been ascended, when his hands – if he’d actually _had_ any hands then – had been tied behind his back by Oma Desala and those damned rules.

Possessing powers beyond mortal comprehension, he could have done _anything_ as an ascended being – except the one thing he most needed to do: help Jack, Teal’c and the people of Abydos.

 _His_ people, those who should have been under his protection.  

He was making up for that now.

If this was indeed something left over from being ascended, he welcomed it.  

A shadow of a waking nightmare passed through his mind and he looked down at his trembling hands, his heart pounding so hard and fast it hurt.

He was anxious to get out there, to go, to help. 

The taxi had left him near a downtown hotel. From there, it was a short walk to the storage facility where he kept his things. As he walked briskly through the darkness, he became aware that tonight, the sensation that directed him through the night felt different. It was stronger now, and his vision was changing.

 Last night he had seen haloes around people, colorful lights that shimmered like living flames.

Now the image of human shape and substance seemed transparent, each body the center of a bright conflagration that hurt his eyes.

He could actually see _through_ walls, through the metal bodies of cars, tracking the human “lights” inside them. 

 _X-ray vision,_ he mused as he punched in the access code at the storage facility’s main gate near the street. _That’s pretty cool._  

He watched as the wrought iron fence panel rolled back to allow him entrance to the grounds. Into the facility he walked, past rows of neat buildings with roll-up garage doors that covered each individual space, a second smaller walk-in door just to the right.

Daniel fitted his key into the padlock on the garage door, removed and pocked the padlock, then went to the smaller door and punched in the access code.

He entered the large storage room he’d rented less than a month earlier. 

It was cool and dark in the April night, and he felt invincible. 

Flipping on the light switch, he closed the door. In the middle of the room stood a large black Ducati motorcycle. He had chosen that model because it was fast, powerful and quiet. A little black tape applied to the license plate gave it a new and incorrect number that could not be traced back to him.  

Along one wall he kept a bedroll where he sometimes rested for a few hours afterward, because his energy was always so sapped when he was finished with these missions. Hanging above it was the uniform and equipment he had purchased discreetly on eBay.

Daniel had planned carefully once the idea took hold of his imagination and now he was reveling in being able to make a difference, to make something good and positive happen in peoples’ lives.

The doubts he had suffered earlier were eagerly thrust aside now. 

He was anxious to get started. 

He took off his jeans and boots, laying them out neatly on the bedroll. His Kevlar vest went over his T-shirt, making sure it was snugly fitted to his torso. Next were the black pants, made of material that was thick like jeans but stretchy as sweatpants, designed to allow freedom of movement in covert operations.  Then he put his boots on again.  

The black motorcycle jacket with the stylish polyurethane ribs down the back was last, covering up the vest. It was a popular style these days. All the bikers were wearing them, and blending in was exactly what he wanted.  

Last of all, he pulled the black ninja-style mask over his head. He had bought it at a martial arts supply store in Denver, where his knowledge of Asian culture had provided him with enough material for casual conversation with the storeowner. He had made himself sound like a _sensei,_ a master teacher of one of the Japanese disciplines so no one would think twice about why he might want the mask. Daniel had bought it to keep from being recognized since, when the hood was in place, all that showed was his eyes, the rest of his face covered with the stretchy black material. He strapped the black motorcycle helmet on top of that, raising the tinted visor so he could do a final check of the rest of his equipment.  

Standing beside the Ducati, he bent down to secure the straps on the scabbard of his Japanese samurai sword, holding it securely to the bike’s frame.

The _katana’s_ hilt was in easy reach of his right hand. He took a moment to withdraw it, examining the blade in the dim light. It was plain, but well made and strong, its long, slender blade arching in a slight curve to an angled tip.

This was the most perfect sword ever designed. The Japanese samurai who carried them, like Musashi, who had written one of the books Daniel had translated for Teal’c’s birthday, were some of the most feared in the world. This _katana_ was the genuine article, purchased over the Internet to make it harder to trace to him.  

With a sigh he slipped the gleaming blade into the scabbard, fixed his knives to hip and wrist, shut off the lights and rolled up the garage door.  

Checking to see that no one was around, he pushed the Ducati outside the storage room and lowered the door. He walked the bike out into the parking lot, checking and listening to make sure no one was about. The storage unit was in the middle of the complex, with no clear view of the street so no one could see him from the more public area at the front.

He lowered the garage door and locked it in case anyone else came into the complex while he was gone. 

Mounting the bike, he slipped the key into the ignition and dropped the faceplate of his helmet into place. Closing his eyes, he relaxed, slipping into meditation. In the quiet night, he slowly brought his busy mind to stillness, to that place where he lost himself and the images became reality. Here he would see what was to come, and where he would need to go to prevent it from happening. 

 

_The baby lay cooing in its father’s arms as he sat on the sofa, watching television. The moment of tranquility was shattered by the sound of gunfire from outside.  The man reacted, diving for cover while bullets destroyed a lamp that had been beside him and made puffs of stuffing explode out of the couch. The man checked the infant he had tried to shield with his body, but it was too late, too late!_

_His wail of grief and horror filled the house, reaching out into the night in all directions._

_Moments earlier now, Daniel could see the house from the outside, tiny and old, a white frame house in need of repair, set in a quiet residential neighborhood filled with similar run-down homes. Down the street he saw an old Chevrolet motoring quietly, a driver and two passengers in the car. It slowed down, and the front seat passenger looked down into his lap, checking the load and then thumbing off the safety from his pistol. The next instant, his arm lunged out the open window and he pulled the trigger until the gun was empty, deliberately shooting through the lighted windows of the house. Then the car sped away into the darkness._

_Backing off further, Daniel saw the street, then the neighborhood, viewing the scene as though from the air, the pathway to his destination burned into his mind._

 

His heart thundered in his chest. He felt nauseous, his head pounding.

“No,” he panted, barely able to catch his breath.

He couldn’t let that baby die in such a senseless tragedy.

He had to hurry if he were going to arrive in time. He drove straight to the street he’d seen in his vision, his mind focused and clear. His hands gripped the throttle, his eyes fixed on the road, weaving gracefully into the light evening traffic as if the bike were part of his body.  

He pulled into the neighborhood, glancing around at the brightly lit homes, cars parked in the street as well as in driveways. Houses crowded close to one another and yards were small. This was a poorer neighborhood, one that had been slowly deteriorating for decades. Few of the streetlights were working, and those that were lit were spaced far apart, leaving wide expanses of darkness in which he might hide and wait. 

He switched off the headlight and sat on the Ducati between two parked cars, letting the motorcycle engine quietly idle in the shadows.  He listened for the sound of that particular car motor, and didn’t have long to wait before the car appeared, just as he had seen in his vision, cruising slowly down the street, approaching that modest little house.  

Daniel pulled out behind the car, edging up closer, slowly approaching the driver’s door. He watched the three men inside the vehicle craning their necks, all focused on that one house, their attention on their target rather than any bystanders or traffic on the street. 

The men weren’t aware of him at all, every head looking to the right, out the right side windows. 

The front seat passenger looked down into his lap, exactly as Daniel had seen in his vision. 

The shooter was checking the load, Daniel knew. Then he would be thumbing off the safety and sticking his arm out the window. Daniel had only seconds to act. 

He gunned the quiet engine, pulling up next to the driver as he pulled his sword from the scabbard mounted by his right leg. Matching the driver’s speed and driving along beside the car, he extended the shining blade into the driver’s open window, right in front of his face. The man was turned to the right, toward the house, and didn’t see the blade until he went to glance back at the street to check the car’s path. 

The driver stomped on the brake and brought the car to a screeching stop, every head whipping around as Daniel yanked the blade out of the open window. 

“Take off.  Right _now_.  And don’t come back,” Daniel warned, his voice a menacing growl.  “Because if you do, I’ll know, and the cops won’t find anything but little pieces of all three of you.” 

Daniel gunned the bike and drove it around in front of the car, squealing the tires as he made a sharp turn to face the car nose to nose. 

For a moment he just stood there, legs spread on either side of the bike as he sat rock still, the sword pointing now directly at the windshield, challenging them, staring the driver down.   

All three of the criminals now stared at him rather than the house. 

Suddenly the driver apparently decided that tonight would _not_ be a good night to die. 

The car’s tires screamed as it was rammed into reverse, backing all the way down the street to the nearest turn-off. 

With another squeal of the tires, Daniel heard it heading away into the night. 

Daniel’s heart hammered in his chest, thrilled that they hadn’t decided to shoot him on the spot. 

He sat there in the stillness, waiting to see if that was all that was required of him, hoping that now he would be able to go home and rest. 

He wasn’t that lucky.

Immediately another vision careened through his mind, this one…

Daniel took in a quick breath, wincing slightly at the images rushing through his consciousness.

 _A man and woman sleeping in their bed, their innocent child at rest down the hall, and a predator coming to take what they held most dear... their lives._  

This one would be bad, worse than all the rest. He didn’t have much time, couldn’t wait to think this one through. He sheathed his sword, opened the throttle and headed out of the neighborhood toward the highway.

In his mind’s eye, he saw the affluent Westside neighborhood clearly; wide, well-landscaped yards surrounding large homes with garages, so few cars were parked on the street.  

Guiding the Ducati onto US 24, Daniel ignored the speed limit, hurrying toward that terrible focus. His mouth was dry, his heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest, mind focused like a laser on the crime scrolling through his consciousness. He gunned the engine, bending down low over the handlebars to reduce the wind drag and slip faster down the highway. 

He felt every movement of the criminal, every glance up and down the sleeping street.

Daniel sensed his intent as the man crept quietly into the family’s back yard, checking the windows and doors, carefully working the lock on the patio door to gain entrance.

This was a personal vendetta, and Daniel had to hurry.  

The intruder had his hand on the stairs and murder in his mind. 

The Man in Black could see everything he intended to do, replayed over and over like a horror film. 

Daniel left his motorcycle on the well-lit street, hastily parked at the curb.

If he were spotted this time, so be it.

He didn’t have time to waste being careful with this one.

He withdrew the sword and left his helmet dangling on the handlebar by the chinstrap. 

Daniel could feel the killer’s foot on the second step inside the house, all his focus on that one man. There wasn’t time to try the front door, which Daniel knew would be locked anyway.

He ran full speed at the house, hurling himself at a window in the front room, shattering the glass, hitting the floor in a well-practiced roll and coming up on his feet on the living room floor, sword at the ready. 

The man on the stairs froze at the sound of breaking glass, turning to gape at the ninja rolling across the floor. 

Daniel took in the darkened room in a glance, the light from the streetlights outside the only illumination, but he didn’t need lights to see clearly.

The living room gave way to a wide foyer, flanked by stairs against the back wall.  

With gracefully precise steps, knees well bent, Daniel moved across the living room floor toward the foyer, left hand extended forward, right close in with the sword held in a reverse grip, the spine of the blade extended slightly from the underside of his forearm. It gleamed with reflected light from the street, casting little sparkles of light against the stairs. 

“Leave now and live,” Daniel challenged, his voice husky with emotion, ringing with authority. “I know what you’re planning to do here.” 

The would-be killer glared at him and pulled a pistol, aiming it right at him. “Well, if it ain’t the Man in Black,” he said with a growing smile. “You know what they say about those who live by the sword…”

He cocked the revolver and closed one eye as he aimed. 

Daniel started to move, making himself a hard target by keeping an uneven path as he advanced across the living room and into the foyer. 

“…They get shot by those who _don’t_ ,” the killer finished with a chuckle. 

Suddenly a light came on from the upstairs hall.  “Oh, my God, it's Ben!” a woman screeched from the top of the stairs. “Doug, do something! He's got a gun!” 

“Call the police, Anna!” said the man standing beside her, keeping his eyes on the two intruders. “You and Brian get back in the bedroom.”

With a shaky hand, Doug aimed his own pistol at the man on the stairs, obviously terrified.

"Anna doesn't want you, Ben. You can't have her, so leave us alone!" 

“Daddy, it’s the Man in Black!” cried a little boy, peering through the balcony spindles and pointing into the living room. “Don’t shoot him! He’s the good guy!” 

The woman caught the boy by the arm and towed him back down the hallway, out of sight. 

Everything happened fast then.

The intruder fired his pistol at Daniel and missed when his target anticipated and sidestepped, still advancing.

The homeowner fired at Ben and missed, the bullet lodging in the wall well behind him.

The stalker ran toward Daniel, taking aim again, but the space between them closed too quickly and Daniel brought his sword across the guy’s ribs, pushing the killer’s gun hand up with his free hand and spinning around to give the man a hard strike to the back with his left elbow.

The cut from Daniel’s sword left the man’s shirt hanging open, a red stripe angling across his chest oozing blood. 

A stream of curses erupted from the killer, maddened with rage, pain and fear. He stumbled into the living room and glanced up the stairs, firing off a shot in that direction to make the homeowner back up.

Daniel lunged for Ben, who swung the butt of his pistol back to collide with the side of Daniel’s head.  

He saw stars for a moment, and that was a second he couldn’t afford to lose.

Ben pushed the muzzle of his pistol hard against Daniel’s chest and fired.

The concussion launched him backward, knocking the air out of his lungs and slamming him hard against the wall.

Stunned for a moment, Daniel just stood there, panting, watching the criminal raise his gun again, this time aiming right for his forehead. 

Daniel stared down the barrel at his own death. If this were really it for him, he was determined to make it count. He could still scare the fucker, and just maybe he might get lucky for the second time that night. 

He grinned, narrowing his eyes at the man. “Come and get me, asshole!” he snarled. 

The homeowner fired again, hitting the carpet a foot from where the killer stood.

In the distance, the wail of sirens could be heard approaching.

The stalker decided to cut his losses and run, taking the shortest way out through the shattered front window, right across Daniel’s path. 

"Next time, Anna!" Ben shouted up the stairs. “You’re mine, and don’t you forget it! You’ll _always_ be mine!” He turned to leave, hurrying across the living room. 

Summoning every bit of strength he possessed, Daniel flipped the sword in his hand to a forward grip and lunged, slicing through the killer’s hamstring and dropping him instantly.

The man lay screaming on the floor.

Staggering forward, Daniel stepped on the man’s wrist to make him drop his pistol. 

When the guy let his weapon go, Daniel kicked the pistol across the room, well out of the intruder's reach. 

He looked up at the terrified homeowner just as his son reappeared at the top of the stairs beside him. “Thanks for the save,” he told them breathlessly. “Don’t touch that pistol.”

He pointed to the weapon on the floor. “Don’t let him get to it, but don’t touch it, either. The cops will need the fingerprints.”

He couldn’t wait for a reply. 

He gave them a little salute and staggered toward the window, barely able to keep his feet. 

“Thanks, Man in Black!” the little boy cried. “You’re my hero!” 

“Brian, get back to your room!” the father growled roughly. “What did I tell you?” 

Daniel shut that out, but the combination of the boy’s honest sentiment and the horrific searing pain in his chest brought tears to his eyes, which he wiped impatiently away. With some effort, he stumbled out to the street, gasping for breath against the pain.

He half fell across the narrow seat, struggling to haul himself onto the Ducati. Driving in the opposite direction of the sirens, Daniel made sure he kept to the speed limit and didn’t draw attention to himself. 

A block away, he carefully sheathed the sharp sword with shaking hands, and then struggled to take off the mask and put his helmet back on. The rest of the ride was peaceful as he returned to the highway and eventually made his way back to the storage facility.  

Tears of pain streaming down his cheeks made it difficult to see, but he managed the drive with only a few bobbles.

At the gate, he fumbled to get his helmet off and, with hands shaking so hard he could barely make them work, he punched in the entry code, heart sinking as yet another vision began to surface, clamoring for attention. 

“Please, not again,” he whimpered.

He guided the bike through the gate, around the corner and into the interior driveway that led to his unit. His whole body was shaking, his chest hurting so much he could hardly breathe. “No more. Not tonight. I _can’t_.” 

He parked the Ducati and pushed down the kickstand, just staring at the garage door, wondering how he was going to get the thing up and the bike inside. 

 _Go._  

Daniel tipped his face up to the starry sky and wept. He was dead certain he couldn’t do this again right now, but he also didn’t know how he could avoid doing it, because those inner voices were impossible to resist. 

“God, help me,” he sobbed. “What do I do now?”

* * *

On his way home from work, Jack headed through the light traffic in his truck, the opera playing on the radio turned way up. He decided to stop off for a few household items he needed from Wal-Mart and got distracted while shopping. He bought way more than he intended, losing nearly an hour in the store. It was nearly 2130 hours, and he still had a couple of other errands to run before he went home for the night.  

As he emerged from the store, Jack scanned the parking lot, partly out of habit, partly because something didn’t feel right. Plastic bags dangling from his hands, he walked to his truck, gaze sweeping the darkened cars. He turned in a complete circle as he stood by the driver’s door, then set his bags in the bed of the truck.  He reached into his jacket pocket for his keys without taking his eyes off the scene. 

He saw a suspicious looking man in an oversized denim jacket pop up from behind a dark blue Mercedes sedan.

The guy was wearing a dark baseball cap pulled down over long, dirty blond hair.

Jack watched him walk slowly among the cars in an area where one of the tall overhead lights was out. He studied the stranger, recognizing a predator when he saw one. A chill ran down Jack’s spine as his threat assessment instincts went into full alert. 

The man was unshaven, and his eyes gleamed with dark intent, hungry and restless.

Jack saw him raise his head as if he could sense he was being watched.

The man made eye contact for a few seconds, then walked briskly to another car, got in and drove away in a hurry.

Jack had gotten a good look at him.  He assumed the man must have decided to try another place for his shady activities. 

This wasn’t anything that concerned Jack. No crime had been committed that he knew about, though he’d be sure to look in the papers the next day to be sure. He was just strung a little tight, both because of his worry over Daniel and the stress of the busy day. He knew he ought to be going home and getting some sleep. 

He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home. He passed a small hotel, heading north toward his Briargate neighborhood. On the street in front of him he spied a guy dressed in black, riding on a black motorcycle.

There was no visible insignia on the bike, but from its lines and the quiet purr of the motor, Jack knew it was a Ducati.  

Those were rare out on the street because they were expensive, and dealerships didn’t just spring up on every street corner.

As far as Jack knew, the nearest one was in Denver.

Ducatis were hot, with a completely different kind of reputation than Harleys, which were loud and heavy and mean, a biker’s bike. Ducatis were the Rolls Royce of motorcycles, sleek and fast, all quiet elegance. This one, all in black, purred like a kitten as it rolled to a stop at the next red light in full stealth mode. 

Jack wanted a closer look at that hot machine. He followed the biker down a block, keeping a respectful distance while he ogled the bike. The biker drove carefully, obeyed all the traffic laws, and drew no attention to himself.

Jack’s motor lust started to wane as the biker turned into the driveway of a storage facility.

O’Neill continued to watch as he stopped at a nearby traffic light, taking one last look at the beautiful machine.  

There was something naggingly familiar about the guy riding it, too. His build, the way he sat, the way his head turned to watch traffic, the motions of his hands on the controls.

Intuition pulled at Jack, but he couldn’t think who he knew who might own one of those bikes.  

Curiosity kicked in, and Jack wondered if – just maybe – _this_ might be the guy that had the Springs in such an uproar.

He smiled as he casually followed the biker with his eyes, teasing himself and imagining what a kook the guy would have to be to pull the shenanigans he had so far.

 _What he wouldn’t give to talk some sense into the man!_  

While he watched, the biker took off his helmet with great difficulty, his body curled up over the handlebars as if he might pass out. The man struggled to punch in the security code that would open the wrought iron gate at the entrance of the storage facility.

Jack saw the rider turn his head then, glancing around him, his whole body moving with the rhythm of breathing as if he were panting, possibly in pain. 

Jack decided he’d go see if the guy needed some help and started to turn into the driveway after him. 

That was when Jack saw the biker’s face.

His guts clenched as he realized this really _could_ be the Man in Black. 

His eyes widened in shock and disbelief, a creeping cold gripping his heart as he recognized that familiar profile. 

It was his best friend.  _Daniel Jackson_.

* * *

Daniel could hardly make his hands obey him, fumbling with the lock on the garage door. His chest felt frozen, muscles locked up tight. It hurt to breathe, and he was sure he probably had a broken rib or two. 

He was sweating and panting as he returned to sit on the bike, trying to decide what to do.

He switched the motor off and stared at the door in agony, wanting nothing more than just to lie down for a little while.

Only he couldn’t get the door open in his present condition.  

He leaned against the seat, glancing up at the stars. It had taken three tries before he managed to fully dismount the bike, his breath coming out in little gusts of pain after that monumental effort. Head down, tears obscuring his vision, he tried to think of some way to get the garage door up that wouldn’t require him to use his arms.  

 _Go,_ the internal urge whispered in his mind. _Others are waiting. You are needed._  

“I can’t,” he whimpered.  

Then he took one step closer to the Ducati, his mind now trying to assess how to get back on it so he could once again answer the call. 

“Let me help you,” a familiar voice rumbled in the darkness. 

Daniel jerked his head up to look directly into a pair of stern-looking, worried eyes that Daniel could barely see inside the glowing outline.

“Jack! Shit! What the hell are _you_ doing here?” His voice was high-pitched and breaking, breathless, revealing just how much pain he was feeling. 

“That’s just what I asked myself about you when I saw you pull into this place,” Jack returned, his voice heavy with concern, “all dressed in black and riding a motorcycle. I _think_ I know what it means, but I want you to tell me.”  

Jack rolled the door up, waving Daniel inside as Jack pushed the heavy machine into the storage room and shut the door behind them.

He felt along the darkened wall for the light switch and turned on the wan bulb. 

Daniel just stood there with his head down, caught in the act, nowhere to run to and no place to hide. He was startled and a bit annoyed at finally being found out, but relief flooded through him at the same time.

At last, someone knew. His secret was out, and now Jack could help him.  He _needed_ Jack to help him. 

"It’s you, isn’t it?" Jack asked, an edge of concern in his voice. “Damn it, Daniel! You’re the ninja the Springs is in such an uproar about, aren’t you?”  

"Yes.” There was no sense denying it now. “But I'm not crazy, Jack. I'm not," he insisted.

Daniel _hoped_ he wasn't, anyway. 

Jack came over to him, eyes sweeping up and down, fear and worry in his tense stance. “Obviously, you’re not okay. Are you bleeding anywhere?” 

An attempt to shrug brought a gasp of fresh pain to Daniel’s lips.

“Some asshole... shot me. Close range. Don’t think I’m...” He groaned and winced. “…Bleeding. Hard to breathe.” He had to talk in short bursts between shallow breaths. It was getting a little better, but talking taxed him dramatically. “Don’t think I can.  Lift my arms.” 

"God damn it," Jack growled softly.  

Face set, he came over to Daniel and fingered the jacket, taking note of the bullet hole and the scent of gunpowder clinging to it.

“Of all the idiotic, stupid stunts you’ve pulled, Daniel,” Jack groused under his breath, “this takes the fucking cake! Now we can’t even leave you alone on your _ow_ n world.”  

“Not stupid,” Daniel argued. He panted through his mouth.  “Saving lives,” he gasped through clenched teeth. 

Jack nodded grimly. He carefully pulled the black leather jacket off, apologizing when Daniel grunted with pain. 

His expression softened a little as he spied the bullet-proof vest underneath.

“You wore Kevlar. That was smart. Might be the only reason you’re still alive.” 

Daniel wasn’t sure he could raise his head now so he didn’t try. His muscles were seizing up on him. Everything hurt. “I was. Thinking ahead. Knew somebody would.  Shoot at me eventually. Just hoped it was.  A body shot.  Not in the head.”  He offered a weak smile of apology, knowing how pissed off and worried Jack was. 

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud!" Jack ripped open the closures on the sides of the Kevlar vest and lifted it off over Daniel’s head, letting it drop to the floor. Grasping the hem of Daniel's T-shirt, he tugged it free of his waistband and lifted the hem to check the area beneath where the hole had been in Daniel's jacket.

A huge bruise covered most of his chest, already dark purple and blue.  

Daniel saw the light that was Jack flare a sickly green for a moment as if he were suddenly ill.  

Jack loosed a relieved sigh. “Well, you're not bleeding externally. That's good. We have to get you to the infirmary, though.  By the looks of this bruising, you could have some internal bleeding, probably broken ribs.  We’ve gotta get you checked out, just to make sure.” 

“Jack.” That was a plea. Daniel struggled to lift his head, wincing as he did. He still could only speak in small sentence fragments.  “I’d rather. Call Janet. At home. Do this. Off the record.” 

“You know what she’s gonna say.” He glared. "You probably know what I'm gonna say, too." 

Daniel took a couple gasping breaths. “Yeah. Believe me. I've been hearing. The possible. Lectures. In my head. For a couple weeks now. Can’t we. Make up a story, Jack? I really don't.  Want this.” He winced with the effort that talking cost him. “To go on. Record. Anywhere.” 

Jack considered. “Only if this was the _last_ time you go ninja, Daniel.” 

“I can’t. Promise that.” 

“Then I take you to the base infirmary and this goes on the record. Hammond will remand you to the base, maybe even turn you over to civilian authorities. You may not be charged with anything but they’ll sure as hell want to know how you know where to go to catch a crime in progress. For that matter, so do I.” 

“I can’t. Explain it,” Daniel muttered. “I just _know._ I just. Follow the evil. To its source. I can feel it.  After nightfall.”

He closed his eyes briefly and groaned. “It… it’s getting harder and harder. To shut out. I think it’s. Something left over. From when I was. Ascended. That’s the. Only explanation.  I have. For what’s been happening to me.” 

Jack was silent for a moment, assessing, taking it in. “Is it the _only_ thing?” 

The younger man lifted his head. “Dunno, Jack. I’m still working my way. Through all that. I can’t say.  What might pop up later. I didn’t have this. Whatever it is. Until about a month ago.” 

Jack lifted his hand and let it rest on Daniel’s shoulder where Daniel saw it burn with cool fire.

Concern blossomed in his flickering bright silhouette. His voice was gentle. Worried. “Will you tell me if something else happens? Please?” 

“I’m fine, Jack. I’ll be. Okay.” 

“Yeah.” His gaze dropped to the spreading bruise, then back up to Daniel’s eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I can see that.” 

Sometimes Jack was eloquent about making his point. Daniel grimaced. “I’ll think about it. We’ll talk later. Okay?” 

Jack nodded. They walked outside together. Jack locked up behind them and assisted his teammate into his truck. 

As they drove, the strange mental summons still tugged at Daniel. He struggled against it, drawing on Jack’s presence and silent support for the strength to resist, to shut out the visions.

Jack’s gentle conversation during the ride to Janet’s house helped distract him.

Jack didn’t know it just then, but he was helping his friend stay sane. 

Half an hour later, Daniel sat on Janet Fraiser’s sofa, his T-shirt pulled up and her skilled fingers probing at the bruise. He thought she was frowning but her expression wasn’t clear in the wash of light that he saw inside the boundaries of her physical form. 

“I’ve been a doctor in the military for a long time, Daniel,” she said, an edge to her voice, “and I’m wondering why you didn’t go directly to the infirmary with this.” 

“She should know the truth,” said Jack flatly. “Tell her.  Or I will.” 

Janet sat back on her heels on the sofa. “Someone shot you tonight, didn’t they? I’ve seen bruises like this before so I know what I’m looking at here.  The truth, Daniel.” 

Daniel nodded reluctantly. He was still hurting, but at least now he could speak a bit more normally.   “Um… yeah. Close range impact. Against a Kevlar vest.”  

The ghostly lines of Janet’s mouth firmed up into a frown. “Who shot you?” she demanded, now probing the bruise deeper toward its epicenter. “You’re lucky to be alive. What the hell happened?” 

“Ow!” Daniel winced. “Does it matter?” he returned guiltily. “I’d really rather not say.” 

“All right. You can give me the details later,” Janet scolded, pulling his shirt back down. “But you _will_ tell me what happened. Let's go. We need to take some X-rays.” 

“Want me to wake up Cassie while you dress and tell her where you're going?” Jack asked. 

She smiled at him warmly. “She’s at a girlfriend's for the night, Colonel. Nothing to worry about here.”  

Janet patted Daniel’s shoulder. “Let’s go. You can tell me about it on the way. Colonel, I’m riding in with you two. Give me a minute to get dressed.” 

Daniel remained silent, in too much pain to move.

Jack coughed nervously and reached into his pocket for his keys, then nodded toward the door.

He helped Daniel back into the truck, then climbed into the driver’s seat and sat waiting for the doctor to emerge from the house. 

“She needs to know the whole truth if she’s gonna figure out what’s wrong with you,” Jack told him. 

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Daniel snapped automatically, his jaw set stubbornly.

He slumped against the door, avoiding looking at his companion, knowing how stupid he’d sounded. 

 _Of course_ something was fucking wrong with him! 

“You’re not sleeping at night. You’re not eating. You fall asleep at your desk. You’re having migraines on a daily basis. You’re shaking like a junkie in need of a fix. You’re suddenly an expert at hand-to-hand fighting, particularly with a knife in your hands.” Jack’s glowing silhouette darkened. “You look like you’ve been in combat for a year, shell shocked and barely coherent. I’ve seen enough men on the battlefield, Daniel. I know the look when they’ve been fighting too long, and it’s all over you.” 

The younger man looked up at him, at the way he brightened the night. He was filled with golden fire, his features barely discernible now to Daniel, just a shimmering shape studying him from behind the wheel. Daniel glanced back at the house, and he could actually see Janet inside, through the walls, her body an indistinct glow moving now toward the front door. 

She stepped outside, flaring brilliantly now that there were no obstructions between them.

She came up to the truck and spoke to Jack through the driver’s side window.  “I'll meet you two at the base,” Janet told him. “I decided I’d rather take my car, so you can tell me about it when we get there.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack answered, starting the engine and backing out of the driveway. 

Daniel sighed and leaned his head against the cool glass in the passenger window. “I don’t know what to say, Jack. I mean, I know you’re right, but…”

He shrugged, turning to look at the light show that was Jack O’Neill. 

“I didn’t realize how good a liar you are ‘til yesterday,” Jack mused.

His tone of voice was light, casual, but the weight of his words was heavy with disappointment and suffering. "You stood there in the gym and lied your ass off, telling me you fell on those stairs when I knew damn well you hadn’t been to see Hammond, because we’d been keeping you away from that area for days. I know sometimes lying is necessary but I thought, after all we've been through together--" 

“I’m sorry,” Daniel shot back sincerely. “This wasn’t exactly something I thought you ought to know.” 

“That’s not the _point_. I understand what 'top secret' means and lying about that stuff is second nature to me. You should have come to me with this.” Jack kept his eyes on the road and traffic but the stiffness in his posture made it perfectly clear how angry and distressed he was. 

"I didn't know how," Daniel told him honestly in a small voice. "I mean, it's not something I can put into words. I don't know how it happens. It's like being inside a nightmare, except I can't wake up. It's just something I have to do.  I’m compelled to do it." 

"You prepared for it,” Jack argued. “You bought that motorcycle and all the gear. Daniel, you can't do this anymore!  You’re _scaring_ me!  I don’t wanna see you get yourself killed. It stops as of right now."

He swallowed hard, his voice soft and concerned as he added, "And you _never_ lie to me again." He glanced at his passenger. “Agreed?” 

That had hurt Daniel. He knew it was hurting Jack, too. “Never again,” he promised, “and I mean that. Word of honor.” 

Jack’s eyes never strayed from the task of driving. “All right.  From one warrior to another,” he reminded his friend. “I can accept that.  Your word is good enough for me.” 

There was something satisfying to that assessment for Daniel. It brought him a sense of peace, of things set right between them.

He didn't think Jack had ever considered him a warrior before tonight. Maybe something good _had_ come from this after all.  Daniel told him a little about the visions on the way back to the base, knowing that Jack was only concerned, and he wouldn’t judge him. 

At the base, Janet ordered X-rays taken and then listened patiently to Daniel’s confession. After she got over the shock of his wild story, she went into full doctor mode, asking questions about Daniel’s disturbed sight and other physical anomalies, when they had started, how they manifested and what he had done to try to stave them off.  

She ordered a battery of new tests. After checking his X-rays, she informed him that he did, indeed, have one broken and one cracked rib, but there was no internal damage requiring surgery. She taped him up, medicated him for the pain, and checked him into the infirmary. 

Then she left to start full body workups on her newest patient. 

Jack stared down at him from his usual perch on a stool as Daniel lay fidgeting in his regular bed in the small ward. “You okay now? How’s the pain? Need anything? And don’t say you’re fine, because I already know you’re not.” 

“Pain’s better, and I don’t need anything but sleep.” Daniel draped his arm over his aching eyes, trying to shut out the brightness of his companion’s illuminated shape, but he could still see it even through his own arm and closed eyelids.  He was exhausted and feeling short tempered. 

A tense silence fell between them. 

Jack cleared his throat. “Look, Daniel, I don’t know what you’re going through,” he said softly, “but I can tell you that you _won’t_ be going through it alone. I’m here for you. So are Carter and Teal’c, right here if you need us. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together. We’re a team. I think you must’ve forgotten that since you’ve been back. You’re not alone anymore, damn it, and you should _never_ think you are.  Or act like you are.” 

Daniel offered a weak smile. “I know, Jack. I know. I just… I have to do _something._ I can’t just… I don’t know how I can lie there in my bed at night and do nothing while people are dying and I’m watching it happen, over and over again.” 

“So I’ll go with you,” Jack offered gently, “to watch your six.” 

With a firm shake of his head, Daniel lowered his arm from his eyes and met Jack’s steady gaze. “No. It’s too…”

His shoulders slumped as what he’d been about to say registered. 

“…dangerous?” Jack finished for him. He nodded. “Yeah. I know. That’s why I asked you to stop.”

He hesitated, absently pressing out a crease in the linens on the bed beside his friend’s shoulder. “Daniel, I know I don’t have to remind you that what we do here is important to the many, as well as the few. We save lives on a regular basis, lives of people who don’t even know about the danger threatening them. I’m not saying that the one or two you connect with in this…” His hands waved about, his mind searching for the right word to describe what Daniel had told him about this unsettling ability, “…this mystical ninja thing you’ve been doing don’t matter, but there _have_ to be ways we can help them without putting you in the line of fire.”  

Jack pointed to Daniel’s chest, right at the epicenter of the bruise, as a reminder. “Death can come for any of us at any time, Danny. I just wanna make sure it counts for something really _big_ when I go, and if we have to lose you _again,_ well…”

He glowed a little brighter, his voice filled with sadness and admiration. “You seem to have a knack for making an exit. I just don’t want to tempt fate. You know?” 

Daniel’s heart caught in his throat.

He wished he could see Jack’s face, read his expression or his eyes, but his friend was only a Jack-shaped light filling up the room.

Still, he could sense the depth of friendship flowing between them, the heartfelt concern, the anxiety, the pride. He was sure of that, though, that on some small level, Jack O’Neill was proud of him, of what he’d been doing. Shocked and alarmed, certainly; but part of him was cheering Daniel’s bravery and good deeds.  

“Okay, Jack,” he sighed. “No more ninja runs.  I already promised you. I won’t forget, and I’ll count on you to help me keep my word.” 

The Colonel wilted visibly with relief and smiled. “Great. Thanks.” He paused, head cocked, thinking. “So… you gonna sell the motorcycle now?” 

Daniel tried to suppress a smile. “Sam’s birthday is next month. How about if I give it to her?” 

“She’ll think you’re coming on to her. That’s an awfully expensive birthday present.” 

“She knows me better than that.” He shrugged, still twitching. “I’ll think of something.”

He squirmed in the bed. “I don’t deserve that wall, Jack.” 

“It’s a done deal now, buddy. And there are some of us here who think you deserve it more than anybody else. About _six times_ more.” Jack patted his shoulder. “I’m gonna go home now. You okay for the night?” 

Daniel nodded. “Yeah. I am tired.” The medication Janet had given him had relaxed him thoroughly.  He yawned. “Maybe I’ll actually be able to _sleep_ tonight.” 

“I hope so. Call if you need anything.  I’ll be back in the morning, first thing, Danny.” 

Daniel felt a sudden peace filling him. Jack hadn’t called him that in a very long time. Maybe the tension and distance Daniel remembered between them was finally falling away, and they could be friends again as they had been in the early days.

He hoped so. Whatever it took to restore that friendship, Daniel was willing to do. He knew Jack wanted to talk about all this. Some of it, though, like the way Daniel saw people now, he couldn’t describe, even with his skill with language. 

Jack hesitated, something else on his mind, his brows pinched in confusion.  

“What?” asked Daniel as he restlessly rearranged the blankets for the third time in five minutes. 

Jack’s voice grew serious with concern. “You gonna be okay?” 

Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll see.” He offered a half-hearted smile of hope. “Good night, Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“ ‘Night, Daniel. Stay put, okay?” He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and left for home. 

Daniel lay in the bed in the softly lit room, staring up at the familiar ceiling.

Another fragment of memory fell into place, and he shuddered, closing his eyes.

He remembered Reese, standing in the ‘gate room with her, desperately trying to help her understand the cost of what she was doing to his world and what she had done to her own. 

 _Your father made you wrong._  

What if… 

Daniel opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, his heart clenching inside his chest. 

What if, when he descended, he’d _come back_ wrong somehow? 

Or what if this was part of his punishment by the Ancients, that he would be able to sense all this terrible evil and be forced to do nothing about it, to teach him a lesson? 

“Oh, God,” Daniel whispered to the empty room. He felt certain that was exactly what had happened now.

Living with a burden like that would drive him mad.

Even now, his body desperate for rest, his mind hazy with drugs, he could feel those visions of horror rising up in his consciousness, pressing him to action, telling him exactly what would happen, and where it would be waiting. 

 _Go,_ the awareness urged. _Help them. You are needed._  

He fought it.  For many minutes, he tried desperately to resist the compelling need, lecturing himself about the promise he’d made Jack, but it was useless.  

He got up and tottered on unsteady legs toward the doorway of the otherwise empty ward. He eased his head around the corner to catch sight of the nurse’s station. 

Due to the late hour, there was only one nurse on duty.  She was busy, head down, writing in a chart. Impatience gnawed at him like a physical thing, prodding him to move. 

If he were caught he was sure they wouldn’t allow him another chance to escape, so he had to be careful even as he wanted to hurry.  

Finally the woman turned away to answer the phone behind her.

Wasting no time, Daniel slipped out, hugging the wall, angling around to the side of the station. He darted up to the half wall surrounding the counter, crouching down as best he could, one arm wrapped around his aching ribs, and scurried past without her notice. 

Sweating with the effort to move soundlessly, his body screaming with pain, he managed to slip out the entrance to the infirmary without notice, and straightened up just outside the door.

He wiped the perspiration from his face with his palms and struggled to catch his breath in quick, shallow gulps.

The medication made him light-headed, but it helped with the pain, easing slightly now that he was no longer bent over. 

Minutes later he staggered into the elevator and made his way to SG-1’s locker room. He pulled on jeans and a sweater, struggling to get his shoes on his feet, whimpering with the pain but not giving in to it.  

Back in the elevator again, he rode it up to the 11th floor, where he signed out, taking no notice of the guard’s concerned look, and headed for the topside gate.  

As he walked, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket to call for a taxi. He arrived at the guard’s hut at the base’s entry gate, giving the soldiers a smile and nod as he always did.

They let him out and turned back to their duties while he waited for the cab to arrive.

He was sweating and trembling but single-minded and focused on what he had to do.

His earlier promise to Jack was not forgotten, but put aside in favor of more important things.   

During the taxi ride, his mind zoned in and out, sometimes sharp and clear as the visions pushed at him, and sometimes he nodded off from the medication.  

He had the taxi drop him right at the gate of the storage facility, no longer caring if anyone saw him go inside, lacking the energy to take his usual precautions.

He just wanted to get the job done now, work through the night until dawn, when the urgency would fade, and he would be able to rest. 

He paid the cab and wearily punched in the code for the security gate.

Stumbling through the cool darkness, he made his way to his rented unit, pausing at the smaller walk-in door to try to undo the combination lock.  

He stared dumbly at the door handle, trying to remember if he or Jack had put the lock back on or not earlier, because it was now gone.

Daniel wobbled, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He lifted one hand to wipe his face, barely remembering that he had neither glasses nor contacts to help him see. He had left those on the bedside table in the infirmary. 

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled to the night. Daniel punched in his code for the walk-in door and stepped inside the unit. He groaned as he reached for the light switch, now trying to think how he was going to get the garage door up.  He flipped on the overhead light, illuminating the inside of the unit with a wan glow. 

Another light glowing brightly inside the room brought his head up instinctively, and he stood staring at the human-shaped beacon reclining in his bedroll, now propped up on one elbow and glaring at him. Daniel didn’t have to see the features on the face to recognize that radiant personality. 

"Jack? What are you doing here?" Daniel muttered, stumbling inside the room. "You should be home in bed." 

"So should you," Jack reminded him, throwing the sleeping bag open. He climbed out and got to his feet as Daniel wandered over and leaned his butt against the motorcycle seat. "What the hell _are_ you doing here? You're not thinking of going out again tonight, are you?" 

"Have to go," Daniel mumbled, rubbing his face with both hands, ignoring the pain in his chest that accompanied that small movement. "Don't have a choice." 

Jack stood there in sweats and a T-shirt, hands on hips, just looking at him, worry radiating off him in waves. "You promised me you wouldn’t _do_ this, God damn it!  What's going on, Daniel?" 

"Dunno. Just gotta go. You wanna get outta my way?" He still had to change clothes but resting against the Ducati’s seat felt good because he wasn’t moving.  

 _Go. Help them. You are needed. Soon it will be too late…_  

The urgency increased. The vision became clearer. He had to go. He made a feeble, half-hearted attempt to push Jack out of the way. 

"You're asleep on your feet," Jack reminded him, catching him by the shoulders. "You're under the influence of some pretty powerful drugs, Daniel. If you get on that motorcycle, you'll kill yourself, and I can't let you leave on that thing. You don’t even have your glasses, for cryin’ out loud! You can’t see to drive it. Besides, I snagged the keys to this place and the Ducati from your stuff in the infirmary."

He paused, arms crossing over his chest. “Now I want the spares.” 

“Find ‘em yourself,” Daniel snapped. God, he was so out of it, he hadn’t even realized he didn’t have any keys anymore.  

He saw Jack’s hands settle on his hips in that _do-what-I-told-you_ stance and capitulated, unable to summon enough strength to continue arguing.

He sagged back against the motorcycle’s seat.  

“Okay, okay. You win,” he said in a resigned voice. He pointed with his chin to a metal shelf unit built into the back wall. “They’re taped to the back of a metal strip fixed to the underside of the shelf above the bottom. Feel for the edge of the metal. It’s hard to see where I joined the extra plate on it.” 

Jack obeyed, carefully feeling around for the false bottom, pulled it loose and stuffed the extra set of keys into his pants pocket. “These the _only_ spares?” he asked, stuffing the keys into his pocket as he straightened up.  

“Yeah.” 

Jack returned to stand beside his teammate and patted him on the shoulder, pushing a little to get Daniel going. “Come on. Move your sorry ass.  We’re going back to the base.” 

Daniel stretched slowly, trying to shrug Jack's hand off him without actually getting off the seat. "I'm fiiiiine," he argued, his words affected by the medication, head lolling listlessly, eyes drifting closed for a little too long. 

"Yeah, sure you are.  But I'm taking you back," Jack repeated tensely. “No arguments.”  He gathered up his wallet and keys, then put on his shoes so he could leave with Daniel. 

The sudden memory of a locked room with a guard posted outside filled Daniel's mind.

His head snapped up, eyes widening with alarm as he realized what might await him back on the base.

"No, Jack, please! I’m begging you!” Fear jolted through his system, and he pushed at Jack’s chest as he spoke. “What if they lock me up? It’ll kill me, I know it will, I swear, Jack, please, don’t _do_ that to me! Not again. I’m not crazy. I’m _not!”_  

"It won't kill you," Jack returned calmly. He reached down into his trouser pocket with his right hand, placing his left on Daniel's shoulder. "We'll take care of you, Daniel. You know that. We don't wanna hurt you."

He gripped harder, thumb and fingers wrapping around Daniel's upper arm. "And we don't want you to hurt yourself. Now, we can do this easy, or we can do it hard. Your choice." 

"Jack, they’ll lock me up!" Daniel begged, growing more alarmed by the moment. He twisted, trying to get out of Jack's iron grip but his injury, his weakness and Jack's preparedness for any move, kept him in the man's grasp. "Please, I have to--" 

"No, you _don't_ have to, damn it!" Jack snapped angrily. "You _can't._ I won't let you kill yourself, and if you go out again tonight that's _exactly_ what you'll be doing. My truck’s parked at that motel down the street, so decide how you want it. Are you walking, or am I carrying you?" 

Daniel felt himself crumbling inside. He knew what they might do to him, but he had no choice. He was hurt, and Jack was still a far better fighter than he was. He wished he could see the other man’s face rather than the brightly burning silhouette with the vague lines where eyes, nose and mouth should be. He needed to see Jack’s expression, his eyes, needed to know there was more than anger and disappointment there. 

Daniel stopped resisting, actually relieved that someone was there to take care of him, and he wouldn't have to feel so desperately alone and frightened anymore.  He didn't know what the hell was happening, hadn't for some time, and maybe Jack could make things right somehow. The responsibility for the decisions had been thankfully removed from him for the moment. He didn’t have a choice, and right then that felt like a pretty good thing. 

“I’m walking.” He let Jack lead him, one strong hand wrapped firmly around his upper arm. They exited the storage unit, and Jack replaced the lock. They walked back to the main gate and down the street to the nearby motel, Jack’s hand on his arm to keep him upright and steady.

And also quite possibly to keep him from getting away. 

"I'm not crazy, Jack," he whispered brokenly, trying to convince himself of that as well as his friend. "I _tried_ to stop. I tried to stay in bed, but I couldn't. I had to go out. I couldn't stop myself." 

He leaned against the truck as Jack unlocked the door in silence.

"You _promised_ me no more ninja runs," Jack growled as he pulled the door open, anger and hurt thickening his voice. “I’m scared shitless, Daniel! This is _way_ more serious than I thought when I first saw you on that Ducati. As if _that_ wasn’t scary enough, realizing you were the Springs ninja, for cryin’ out loud.”

He caught Daniel up under the arms, helping lift him onto the running board of the big truck and then up into the passenger seat.  “I cannot _believe_ you are out here again!” he growled. 

"I _wanted_ to keep my promise. I tried, Jack. I _tried."_ He took a deep breath and put his head down, whimpering, miserable, desperate, sick at heart. "Help me. Please help me." 

"I will.  Don’t worry." Jack's voice was soft and shaky. He hugged his friend briefly, then locked and closed the door.

“Don’t worry,” he repeated as he started the engine.

A relieved rush of breath left Daniel. He slumped against the seat, his head leaning against the cool glass of the passenger window, eyes closed. "Jack... I’m so scared. I think… something’s _really_ wrong with me. In ways I can’t begin to imagine." 

In the cool darkness of the cab, Jack reached out and patted him on the shoulder, his voice full of sympathy and shared pain. "I know. We'll find out what it is, and we'll help you, Daniel. Just hang on. Doc Fraiser’s probably ready to hang you out to dry by now. I’m assuming you didn’t sign yourself out?" 

Daniel nodded, staring at the dashboard. "No. I sneaked out of the infirmary.”

He was afraid for his life, for his sanity. What he’d done tonight… it really _was_ crazy. “God, Jack, I feel like I'm coming apart inside." 

Jack's hand was warm and comforting, rubbing a small circle on his shoulder. "We'll help you," he promised. 

O’Neill parked the truck and walked him back into the base, calmly informing the SF at the security desk on 11 _not_ to allow Daniel to leave the mountain until Jack or General Hammond rescinded the restriction. He didn’t offer any embarrassing explanations, just made sure Daniel couldn’t leave without permission. 

Daniel signed in, barely able to see the book in the light wash from the people around him.

Jack escorted his teammate back to the infirmary, and Janet walked them personally to one of the isolation rooms, mouth pressed into a firm, disapproving line.

She held back on the lecture, because Daniel wasn’t in any shape to tolerate a browbeating. That must have been obvious, judging from the sympathy in her eyes. 

“Do you think you can sleep now?” Jack asked him quietly. 

Daniel lay staring up at the ceiling. “No. All I see is...”

He shuddered and closed his eyes but the images only became more violent, more vivid. “It’s awful, what people are doing to each other out there. Maybe if I went off-world, to someplace where there aren’t any other people, just us...” 

Jack and Janet exchanged a look.  “I can’t let you do that, Daniel,” Janet reminded him, “and I’m going to have to post security at the door to make sure you don’t walk out of here again. Let me get you something to help you sleep.”  She patted his arm and went out to the nurse’s station. 

Daniel couldn’t think clearly. He was drowning in those images, and in self-defense he began to talk about them, to describe to the best of his ability what he saw and heard and felt in those terrifying visions. He talked until his voice began to falter, and Jack got him a drink of water. 

He found it odd that Jack didn’t interrupt or ask questions, just let him talk while Janet went in and out, taking her blood samples, listening to his heart and giving orders to the nurses on duty in the back of the big, spacious room. He ignored the medical staff’s poking and prodding, focusing his attention on what was going on inside him and the man sitting on the stool beside his bed, riveted to his every word. 

Daniel knew Jack had probably seen much worse in his lifetime as a soldier, so he was the perfect person with whom to share this confidence.

Daniel couldn’t stop, describing in detail the crimes being committed, where they were happening, who suffered and died, and who was doing those heinous things. He wanted to be out there, stopping those crimes before they happened but he was only one man. He couldn’t save them all and, in the shape he was in at that moment, he couldn’t help _anyone_ without getting himself killed. 

In time, the visions faded and his mind quieted.

“Sun’s coming up, right?” he asked.

O’Neill checked his watch.

“Dead on,” said Jack. “How did you know?”

“Because the pressure is off now. No more visions or demands to _go_.”

He eyed his friend and finally could see the sympathy and anguish in Jack’s eyes, in that welcome view of his friend’s normal, solid face without the light show. Only Daniel didn’t want to see those emotions now, didn’t want to see anything.  

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, relieved that the torment had stopped for the space of another day, and instantly Daniel fell asleep, his faithful friend nearby to watch over him until he awakened.

* * *

Later, Jack stood by while he watched Daniel slip into the MRI tube. This was the last test of the day, and Doctor Fraiser’s shift was about to end. Test after test had been run, with Daniel sleeping heavily through most of them, and most of the results would be coming in soon. 

All day Jack had been in Daniel’s shadow, never leaving him alone for long, always checking to see if any room in which he had to separate himself from his ‘prisoner’ had more than one exit.

Daniel hadn’t tried to escape, however, and often fell asleep during examinations.  

Fraiser had ordered up every test in the book, not certain what she was seeking. This was an unusual case, and she had no real direction to seek answers to the hallucinations, the migraines or elevated heart rate.

Jack had tried to question her about her theories concerning Daniel’s condition, but she had always refused to speculate and firmly told him he’d have to wait. 

Checking his watch, Jack did the countdown to sunset.

He called Teal’c and Carter to meet him outside the MRI room. 

“What word on DanielJackson?” the Jaffa asked as he glided to a stop beside his commander, concern evident in his usually unreadable expression. 

“Nothing yet.” Jack glanced at his watch again. In half an hour it would be sundown. “He’s been sleeping most of the day, which is good. He needed that.” 

“That’s good, I guess,” Carter added. “Any idea when we might know something?” 

The technician finished his test and ran the carriage on which Daniel lay out of the tube. Jack could see Daniel through the video camera in the MRI room and sensed instantly that something had changed in his younger friend.  

Daniel’s eyes were wide open. When he got up off the carriage, his eyes gleamed intensely, mouth set in a grim line. He stood straighter, shoulders back, chin dipped low like a bull ready to charge.

The door to the MRI room opened and he rushed out, right into Jack’s path.

 Turning to the technician, Daniel asked brusquely, “Are you done with me?” 

“Yes, sir, Doctor Jackson. You can go back to the infirmary now to wait for Doctor Fraiser. We’ll have the test results sent up as soon as they’re done.” 

Jack caught Daniel by the elbow and steered him toward the door. 

Daniel shook his hand off. “I can get there by myself, Jack. You don’t have to nursemaid me.” 

“I think I do,” Jack returned, tension already starting to mount inside him. He could feel the waves of intensity starting to radiate off the other man. 

Teal’c cocked his head. “Is something upsetting you, DanielJackson?” 

“I’m fine,” he snapped, glaring at his friends. “Will everybody _please_ just stop asking me that?”

He stomped down the corridor, frowning at everyone he passed, his three teammates in tow. 

They came to a Y-corridor and suddenly Daniel bolted in the wrong direction. 

Jack was after him instantly, with Teal’c hot on his heels.

Daniel was a powerful runner, but he had more muscle to move than Jack’s leaner build.

The older man caught up to him, grasping him by the back of his scrub shirt.  He pushed Daniel up against the nearest wall, trying to pin him with his body. Daniel grunted with pain, but pivoted at the last second, bounced against the wall on his shoulder and came back at Jack with a punch to the abdomen. 

That knocked the wind out of him for a moment, and Daniel was able to free himself from Jack’s grip on his clothes.

He took one step away, heading back the way they had come, and ran smack into Teal’c’s broad chest.

The Jaffa flattened him against the wall, crushing Daniel there with his big, powerful body. 

Daniel howled in agony, frozen in place, unable to move. 

Jack caught Daniel’s wrist, bent it back and pushed against Daniel’s elbow, locking his arm. He nodded to Teal’c, who did the same with Daniel’s other wrist, then stepped away.

“Keep his arms locked, T. We’ll take him back to the isolation room. Carter, you call Fraiser.” 

She was already jogging down the corridor to the nearest phone. 

“You knew he would attempt to escape,” Teal’c surmised. 

“Let’s say I had a good hunch,” Jack admitted. “Whatever the hell this thing is, it starts every day at dusk.” 

Daniel could hardly breathe, grunting with every exhalation, slightly bent over as he stumbled along between them. They walked Daniel to Isolation Room 4 and, when the door closed behind them, Jack let his friend loose. 

“I have to _go_ , Jack,” Daniel insisted in a low voice, folding his arms across his damaged chest. “I have to be out there.”

He waved aimlessly and wandered away, pacing the floor near the door, hugging himself. 

“Back off, Daniel,” Jack ordered, his voice low and filled with warning. “Move away from the door. You’re not going out there. You _can’t_.” 

Daniel’s eyes glazed over.

He moved like a caged animal, his body tensed and ready to charge.

Jack knew that as soon as the door opened to admit the doctor, Daniel would try to break out. He was getting stronger, fighting better, resisting the pain of his injury with each passing moment, and without extra help or a solution to this problem, Jack knew Daniel would be _much_ harder to bring down a second or third time, even damaged as he was. 

When the door started to open, Jack acted, rushing Daniel and tackling him. They wrestled on the floor for a moment, and Jack caught a hard punch in the mouth before Daniel pushed him off. He sprang up and ran right past Fraiser and Sam, who were now fully into the room, scrabbling at the closed door, howling in frustration and pain when he couldn’t get out. 

Jack got up slowly, blotting his mouth with his palm and looking for blood. There wasn’t any but he felt his lip already starting to swell from getting caught between his teeth, and Daniel’s fist.

“This is not good, doc,” he observed quietly.  “Hurt as he is, he’s really strong.  And absolutely determined.” 

Janet studied Daniel for a moment.

She eased up behind him and put one hand lightly on his shoulder to get his attention as she called his name.

He shrugged her off and went back to tugging on the door. 

“Daniel, I need to talk to you about your test results,” she called a little louder. “Daniel!” 

He shot her a glare that spoke volumes and jerked away to pace the room, eyes burning with challenge. Every effort she made to connect with him failed.

He didn’t seem to hear or understand her at all, lost in the visions searing his mind. His arms clasped his head as he paced, looking more tortured by the minute. 

Daniel ran at the door once more, pounding his fist into the steel barrier without the slightest flicker of pain crossing his face. He put his head down and marched right past Janet, pacing the room again, staring at the floor, seeing nothing. His shoulders were hunched up, his fists flexing and relaxing, breath coming out with every exhalation in a low growl. 

She turned back to the Colonel.

“I think it’s time we helped him calm down a little,” she began, looking at her patient again with new eyes, “so I can talk to him.”

She picked up the phone by the door and called for two orderlies, specially trained to deal with violent patients, then requested a nurse bring her a syringe filled with a powerful tranquilizer. 

Teal’c stationed himself in front of the door, an immovable barrier.

Daniel stared at him, head down as he paced, eyes flicking toward any movement of the others, watching for any opportunity to escape.

He moved like a caged tiger, all leashed power and feline grace. 

When the three men arrived, Janet sent the rest of SG-1 out into the hall to wait.

The trio headed up to the observation booth at a fast jog, all of them anxious to see what would happen to their friend.  

Janet spoke to the orderlies in a huddle by the door. When they turned to regard their quarry, they moved in fast.

Daniel promptly laid two of them out on the floor, a dangerous, defiant gleam in his eyes as he studied the third. 

The two downed men got up quickly and began to circle around him, gradually moving closer while Janet talked to him, her voice low and soothing. 

“Let us help you, Daniel,” she cajoled gently. “I need to talk to you, and you need to listen to me. If you’ll lie down on your bed and be quiet, we won’t have to do this the hard way.” 

Daniel eyed her briefly, his gaze shifting to check the location of the men, turning his head and changing position, half crouched, ready for action.

One man came up quickly behind Daniel, embracing him and trapping his arms at his sides. The other joined in and caught at Daniel’s legs. Janet slipped in, quickly injected Daniel in the arm with the Valium, and stepped back. 

Daniel yelped and broke free of their grasp, darting away swiftly.

On Janet’s signal, the orderlies backed off, posting themselves by the door to wait for the medication to take effect. 

Jack stood at the window, leaning over the counter, hands clenched into fists.

“C’mon, Daniel,” he breathed, wishing the drugs would kick in as fast as it did in the movies. He watched his younger teammate pace the room, rushing to ram his shoulder into the door in frustration, then prowl in the back of the room like a wild thing, head down, glaring at the medical staff from beneath his heavy brows with a mixture of rage and terror gleaming in his eyes. 

He never spoke a word. 

O’Neill was grateful for the presence of his other two teammates, who edged slowly closer to him in unconscious support, each of them drawing on the others for strength and unspoken comfort. 

Twenty long minutes passed as they watched.

Daniel began to wobble and stagger, finally stumbling over to the bed. He lurched against it, holding his head in his hands, his fingers kneading his forehead wearily.

The orderlies helped him onto the bed, raising the side rails to keep him from falling off. Then they strapped him down with thick, padded restraints that would keep him still and safe.

“Jesus,” whispered Jack. He sat down heavily in the chair, swallowing down the lump in his throat, unable to take his eyes off the scene below him. 

Janet motioned the orderlies out the door, then leaned over the bed, one hand stroking Daniel’s hair to help comfort and calm him while she talked to her patient in a low voice.

He was very lethargic, but he seemed to understand her.  He blinked slowly and nodded his head from time to time.

She leaned down to hear something he mumbled to her, then gave him a reassuring smile and a pat on the shoulder. 

Afterward she stepped into the observation room to speak with Daniel’s commanding officer, requesting that Carter and Teal’c give them a moment of privacy.

“He’s obviously off the roster for any missions in the foreseeable future,” she informed him. “I haven’t been able to pinpoint a cause for this condition, but I’ll continue working on it. All I can tell you is… it’s very serious. I think you and I need to speak with General Hammond and have a briefing about what I’ve discovered so far.” 

Jack glanced down at the floor. “I guess everybody has to know the truth, huh?” 

She nodded, her eyes sympathetic. “I don’t see any way around it. If his recent behaviors as the Man in Black are a result of whatever’s causing his illness, then knowing everything we can about all that could well help us figure out what happened and how to help him.” 

Lifting his gaze slowly to meet hers, he cleared his throat. “It’s not… all in his mind… is it?” 

With a sigh, she looked down into the isolation room at the still form of the man on the bed. “The human mind is capable of a great many things, Colonel. Far more than we truly understand at this moment in our technological development.”

She dragged her gaze back to his face, worry evident in her expression. “I can’t say for certain that it’s _not_ all in his mind. What I _believe_ is that there must be a physical cause for what’s happening to him, most likely some kind of alien influence. I just haven’t been able to pinpoint it. Yet.” 

His throat tightened, making his voice deepen and roughen as he spoke again. “How bad is it?” 

She tried to smile a little. “I don’t really know.  But I think he’s okay for now.”  
Jack didn’t have to hear the other shoe drop to know what she wasn’t saying. 

If they didn’t find out what was wrong with Daniel, he wouldn’t _stay_ okay.

“Let’s get everyone together,” Jack told her.  “I’ll call General Hammond at home and will let you know when he’ll be here.” 

His eyes on Daniel, Jack heard her leave.  He picked up the phone in the booth, dialing the number he knew by heart, his eyes still on the room below. Rubbing his palm over the sore spots on his abdomen and then on his jaw where Daniel had punched him, Jack relayed the information to his C.O.  

He stayed in the booth for the next hour, keeping vigil with Daniel, until Hammond phoned him from his office to let him know he’d arrived back on base.  

After a quick call to Janet to inform her that the meeting was set, Jack left to go to the briefing room.

 

**On to _Night Watch_ , Part II**


	6. Night Watch, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is VERY wrong with Daniel, and the team must go off-world to search for a cure. What they find might either free him... or kill him.

Cup of coffee in hand, Janet Fraiser sat down at the briefing table with her battery of test results. It was the middle of the evening, and she had run every conceivable test on her patient, watching him grow wilder as the night advanced.

During the day he had been calm and completely rational.

She had watched the change happen, starting with the setting of the sun. 

Doctor Fraiser opened her folder with a sigh. She eyed each person down the rows of chairs – Sam across from her sitting beside Teal’c, the Colonel to her left and General Hammond at the head of the table. She saw the concern in each of their faces and felt as if she had failed them all somehow.  

“First, let me assure you that Daniel has given his permission for me to discuss his condition with you, in the hopes that an answer may be found through our collaborative efforts on his behalf.“

Glancing back over the test results, she tried to jiggle some intuition loose that might give her a direction to continue her investigation, but there was nothing. She was at a dead end.

"Unfortunately, I have very little to tell you," she began dispiritedly. 

"Whaddya mean?" Colonel O'Neill demanded. "There's somethin' _wrong_ with Daniel. That's obvious." 

"Yes, it is," she nodded. "With the coming of nightfall, whether he is aware of the time of day or not, he becomes agitated. His desperation increases as the night wears on, but during the day it vanishes almost completely. My test results show an increase in adrenaline that accompanies the agitation, pushing it to dangerous levels in his system."  

“So sedate him through the night,” Jack suggested. 

She swallowed hard and lifted her eyes to each of the members of SG-1 sitting at the table, ending with the Colonel. “It’s not that simple, sir. You’re familiar with the fight-or-flight reflex?” 

“Of course.” 

Her eyes fell on the EKG readings that revealed how Daniel’s heart had behaved throughout the previous night, all day, and now moving into another night.

“During the day, Daniel’s exhausted but all his body functions are normal, once the adrenaline wears off.” She lifted her eyes to his, looking for analogies he might understand to help illustrate the danger Daniel was facing. 

“Look at it this way. Imagine you’re standing on a street corner. You start to cross, and a car nearly hits you. _Bam!_ Fight-or-flight reflex kicks in and adrenaline shoots through your body. Your heart rate speeds up. Your sense of time is distorted, making everything seem to move in slow motion, so you get out of the way and back on the corner almost before your mind processes what’s just happened. Your reflexes are faster and you’re much stronger than normal. You’re also a little light-headed and your critical thinking processes suffer. Your digestive system shuts down, so if you’ve just eaten a meal, you’re not getting the nutrients from it. Are you with me so far?” 

Heads nodded. 

“Okay. Normally the danger passes after a few moments; you catch your breath and start to come down from the adrenaline high. Tremendous amounts of energy have been burned up in those brief moments, and you feel suddenly weak. You crash.” 

All eyes were on her, waiting. “This reflex is designed to function in the body for a _very_ brief period, usually seconds, minutes at most.”

She swallowed hard, glancing at the medical analyses again.

“Daniel’s body is sustaining this condition for _hours.”_  

Astonishment dawned on every face as that information registered.  

She clutched her pen in both hands until her knuckles turned white. "His body can't take this kind of abuse for an extended period. If this condition persists, his organs will slowly begin to fail; not immediately but over a span of weeks. He may already be addicted to the euphoric effects of the adrenaline on his brain, and unless we can get the underlying cause under control… in time, it _will_ kill him. The rapid heartbeat, the increased blood pressure, the overproduction of adrenaline… He could eventually die of heart attack, stroke or kidney failure.” 

“Doctor Fraiser, is there nothing you can do to at least slow down the progression of this… disease?” asked the General worriedly. 

“I’ve received permission from Daniel to begin sedating him heavily at night,” she answered wearily. “This is only a stop-gap measure for the short term, though. Continued use of that type of medication will cause other complications if used too long.” 

Hammond leaned forward, bracing himself against the table with his forearms. “And you have no idea what the source of this condition might be?” 

Janet shook her head. “I've found no evidence of foreign substances in his system, nothing that I can see as a starting point. I am fairly certain, however, that there is a physical cause for this condition. The mind cannot engage a state of ‘fight-or-flight’ and maintain it at these levels, for this length of time, and with this precise timing and regularity, without a corresponding physical cause." 

Sam's eyes closed. "We just got him _back_ , Janet! We can't lose him again." She studied her note tablet for a moment before making eye contact, her blue eyes turning to steel. "What can we do?" 

"We have to find out what's causing this anomaly," Janet answered simply. "My test results show nothing abnormal or alien in his system. I recommend we look back over every mission he's been on since his return from Vis Uban, maybe even go back to some of the planets you've explored since then and take a second look." 

"All right, Doctor," Hammond intoned.

He nailed the Colonel with a determined gaze. "I want every mission report gone over with a fine-toothed comb. When Doctor Jackson is awake and lucid, I want one of you interviewing him for any odd physical sensations he might have felt off world." 

"I'll handle that, sir," Doctor Fraiser volunteered. "That way the rest of the team can review their reports without interruption and I can let him rest as much as possible." 

"Done, then. Ladies and gentlemen, you have your assignments." 

"Sir." Jack stared hard at the General. 

"Yes, Colonel?" 

"Daniel seemed to think this might be something left over from being all glowy. If that's so, there may be nothing we can do here." 

"Then perhaps we could return to Kheb and attempt to make contact with Oma Desala," Teal'c suggested. "Perhaps she could assist with removing this malady from DanielJackson." 

 _"_ Only if she were the last good witch of the north in the galaxy!" Jack snarled, staring at the Jaffa. “I’d rather look under every rock on every planet we’ve touched since Vis Uban than try to get a straight answer out of those glowy folks on their sanctimonious fluffy white clouds.”  

"Agreed, Colonel O’Neill." Hammond started writing in his notes. "However, I do think there may be some merit to Teal'c's suggestion. If we can't find any other answers, that will be our last recourse. Let's get Doctor Jackson some help. Dismissed, people." 

Everyone started to rise from the table except for Janet, who cleared her throat to get Jack’s attention.

He got the message, considering for just a moment longer.  

Finally, he spoke. "Um, sir? Wait just a minute.  I think maybe everyone ought to have a seat. You all need to know something else." 

"What is it, Colonel?" Hammond asked, the concern in his face exacerbated by the worry in Jack's. He resumed his seat, as did Teal’c and Carter. 

"It's… about Daniel, sir." Jack leaned on his hand, his fingers covering his eyes as if he were suddenly exhausted. 

"Do you know something, Colonel?" Carter asked, her intuition prompted by his demeanor. "Something you haven't told us?" 

Jack straightened up. He squirmed in his seat, his face flickering with the tortured emotions he felt: worry, guilt, fear, and finally, resignation. His shoulders slumped and he made eye contact with his teammates. "That unexplained bruising we talked about last night? That was from _fighting_. From _Daniel_ fighting people. He was… ah… he was shot while wearing a Kevlar vest last night, saving a family from a stalker. I’m sure you heard about it on the news." 

Sam’s eyes widened. Her mouth fell open in a small ‘o’ of surprise and then slowly closed. 

Jack swallowed hard. His gaze went down to the table and, for a moment, his eyes closed. "Daniel Jackson is the Man in Black." His gaze shifted to Hammond’s face, and he waited. 

Silence settled in the room, along with a pronounced chill of fear and shock.

A hint of a smile lit Teal'c's face, and he nodded his approval. Then the smile faded and worry crept into his eyes. “So it is as I suspected. I planned to speak with DanielJackson in private today and have not had an opportunity.” 

Sam sat rock still, her expression vacant as she tried to take that fact in and process it. 

General Hammond threw down his pen and looked daggers at his 2IC. “And just when in _hell_ did you plan on telling me about this? Don’t you realize the danger that casts on this program?”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead and a vein bulged out as his complexion darkened.

“Not to mention the fact that the President of the United States was just here and wouldn’t _that_ have made a nice little addition to the festivities if we’d had the police knocking on our door, wanting to question the head of our academic department about his nighttime hobby as a local vigilante?  _And_ not to mention the danger to Doctor Jackson personally!” 

"Yes, sir," Jack breathed helplessly, head down. 

"How long have you known?" Hammond demanded. 

"Only since I brought him in last night," Jack answered quietly. "I caught him after it was all over. When he tried to go back out again, I was waiting for him and brought him back to the base for his own protection. He was _clearly_ not capable of stopping himself."

He cleared his throat nervously. “He sees the crimes happening in his mind and feels forced to go out to stop them.  Now, since he can’t help… It’s tearing him up. I -- I’ve stayed with him partly to keep him where he’s supposed to be and partly to act as moral support. I was going to inform you at the first opportunity.”

Jack sighed. “I didn’t think it was the sort of thing to be handled with a phone call, for obvious reasons, and Doctor Fraiser and I were trying to make sure we had all the facts before we brought it to you.”

He glanced guiltily, sadly at her, then back at the General. “And we’ve pretty much done that.” 

"It's a damn good thing you haven't known about this all along, or I'd be hauling you up before a review board, Colonel O'Neill," the General seethed. "I don’t think I need to tell _any_ of you that this information needs to stay within this room! No one else can know the identity of the Man in Black. It is now _startlingly_ clear that Doctor Jackson is under the influence of something beyond the scope of our medical capabilities. If this is, indeed, a residual effect of his ascension, I'm not sure we can afford to keep him on Earth, for his own safety. If a solution can’t be found for his condition I'll be reassigning him off world somewhere. With the smaller population and rarity of violent incidents at that site, that may well be the safest place for him until we can solve this problem." 

"I think you may be right about that, sir," Jack agreed unhappily. 

"Holy Hannah," breathed Sam in fearful wonder, her eyes still wide with shock. "Daniel's the _ninja_? I just... I can't wrap my mind around that concept." 

"He _is_ a great warrior, MajorCarter," Teal'c reminded her. "Since his return to us, he has applied himself to the art of combat with great passion. You have not witnessed him in training recently, or you would have seen this." 

"Yeah," Jack rasped with a frown. "He killed me good during our last workout. I shoulda seen it then, but I just didn't figure... I thought Daniel was too smart to be going out at night trying to save the world here at home." 

"That is in DanielJackson's nature," Teal'c observed sagely. "However, like the rest of you, I did not think he would do such things. I only began to suspect last night, when I saw him leaving the base. There was something about his pace that spoke of a certain… urgency. As if he were on a mission. Which, evidently, he was."

He lifted his chin and stared down at the table. "If we cannot help him, GeneralHammond, I wish to be reassigned with him to ensure his continued safety." 

"I'll take that under consideration, Teal'c," Hammond agreed. 

Janet Fraiser saw the silent thanks in the Colonel's eyes as he watched his Jaffa teammate.

"I don't know what else I can try," she told the assembly, "but I'm not ready to give up yet. Maybe with the right mental discipline, Daniel may be able to get control of this ability himself." 

"Let's get busy, people," Hammond ordered. He pinned the doctor with a frank gaze. "While you're interviewing him, Doctor, perhaps you might see if Doctor Jackson will write up mission reports on his nighttime activities as well. Maybe there's something hidden in those incidents that could help us pinpoint what's driving him to do these cockamamie things in his free time." 

"Yes, sir."  

This time everyone pushed back from the table and went their separate ways, with Janet heading straight for the isolation room where Daniel was being held.  

She checked her watch and saw with a sinking feeling that most of the night still lay ahead of them.

She found him fully awake and agitated, struggling fiercely against his restraints.  

Janet started an IV and injected a potent sedative into the tubing port, putting him under what amounted to a light anesthesia. When the medication took effect, she had a technician hook him up to an EKG. She wanted constant readings to monitor every change in his condition, looking for any patterns that might emerge, and finally ordered a nurse to be in constant attendance, so that Daniel would at no time be left alone in his room. 

Janet was afraid for him. Not just for his deteriorating health but also for his sanity.

They had to help him soon, or he would plunge headlong into psychosis and they might never be able to get him back.

* * *

"Unauthorized incoming wormhole!" the tech on duty in the ‘gate control room announced over the PA. 

General Hammond appeared a moment later, followed by Jack O'Neill. Both men had just left the morning briefing meeting, three days into the search for a cause of Daniel’s illness, still with no progress in sight. "That's three times in the last week," the General mentioned aloud. 

Jack heard the’ gate engage, followed by the resounding clang of something impacting against the closed iris.

Moments later, the wormhole had always disengaged… but not this time.

Tension filled the control room and the SFs on guard duty in the embarkation room below took cover behind equipment, weapons ready. 

Slowly, a small clear bubble appeared on the trinium surface of the iris. It looked like a rising blister, growing larger and firmer until it popped completely away from the shield, floating like a six-inch wide soap bubble ten feet above the ramp. 

"What is it?" asked Jack. 

"I have no idea." Hammond stared at it. “But the fact that it’s breached our security isn’t a good thing.” 

The wormhole finally disengaged, silence filling the ‘gate room below. 

"Sir?" called one of the SFs. "It doesn't appear to be threatening us. Orders?" 

"For now, just watch it," Hammond ordered. "If it moves from that spot, shoot it." 

"It's a bubble, for cryin' out loud!" Jack announced with a frown, one hand waving toward it. "It's _empty_. You can see right through it." 

"And it passed through the iris as if it weren't there," Hammond reminded him. "That speaks of technology on the order of Tollan phase shifting capabilities, and it could be dangerous if whoever sent it isn't obliged to be friendly." 

The bubble hovered a few moments longer and then started to move. 

One of the soldiers shot at it, the bullet piercing its clear surface and passing harmlessly through it. The other soldiers fired as well, with no results. The bubble floated toward the glass panels of the control booth, and Hammond ordered the blast shields closed. 

The bubble went right through them as well, hovering over the controls. 

Jack reached out to touch it but it dodged away from contact and floated to a spot inches away from his face. "Uh... I think it likes me," he said slowly. 

With each word he spoke, he saw the vibrations cause a slight shimmer on the bubble's iridescent surface.

Suddenly it changed color and then began to float upward, disappearing through the ceiling. 

Hammond was on the PA instantly, calling for all base personnel to be on the lookout for the thing.  

Jack stepped away to call for backup, then returned to his post in the control room, waiting for orders and listening to reports coming in as it was tracked through the building.

Calls came in from all over, reporting the anomaly as it passed straight upward, floor to floor, until it hit the infirmary level.

The bubble started moving laterally then, passing through walls until it came to rest in Daniel’s isolation room. 

Janet Fraiser picked up the phone and dialed the control booth to report.

Jack listened with trepidation as she described the thing bobbing excitedly about her patient's head.

Daniel was watching it with a mixture of shock and fascination from his bed and, as she looked on, the bubble changed color, glowing green and yellow. 

After just a few moments, Fraiser reported that the bubble had disappeared again, sinking through the floor only to reappear moments later in the control booth.  

As Jack and Hammond discussed containment measures, they heard the Stargate begin to dial up.

The tech at the control station rolled his chair backward, hands in the air. “It wasn’t me!” Sergeant Davis declared. “I didn’t touch the keyboard. That thing must have some way of dialing directly.” 

“Or else it’s interfacing with our control system,” Hammond shot back. He turned to his right. “Get me Major Carter ASAP!” 

Jack opened his mouth to tell the General that he’d already summoned the Major from her lab, but she came up the spiral stairs and announced herself just as the final chevron lit up and engaged. 

“Here, sir.” She stared at the bubble above the control panel and watched it pass intact through the glass and into the gate room below.

Once the wormhole was established, the bubble slipped through the closed iris again and was gone. 

Hammond frowned. "I'd say our security has just been seriously breached," he growled to the officers at his side. "If I were guessing, I'd say that bubble was some kind of probe. We've been scanned and that thing is now returning to the people who sent it with God knows what information."

Beads of sweat popped out on his brow. 

"I think it was just interested in Daniel," Jack pointed out. "It seemed to go straight to his room, gave him the once over, and then came right back to the ‘gate. I think it found what it wanted. Maybe we should check the address to see if it went to a world on the Goa'uld list or the Ancients'. Maybe we’ll find some folks there who can help us figure out what’s wrong with Daniel." 

The General turned to his chief astrophysicist. “Major, that object seemed to have the power to dial the Stargate up by itself. I want to know if it interfaced with our technology and, if so, exactly how and what it did, and whether or not any of our data has been compromised.” 

“I’ll give everything a thorough going over, sir.” She sat down at a nearby terminal and pulled up the ‘gate address database and started the search on the last symbols dialed, then opened up the diagnostic program and started a background sweep of the entire ‘gate control system. 

Twenty minutes later, a match had been found far down on the Ancients' database list. Two hours after that SG-1, minus a heavily sedated Daniel Jackson, was seated in the briefing room with the General. 

“I have a MALP standing by to go to the address that bubble dialed,” Hammond informed them. “Major Carter, do you have any information on the systems check?” 

“First run through of the diagnostics showed that everything is functioning normally and our data seems intact,” she told him. “I ran a tracking program designed to indicate the origin of the address input into the system and was surprised to discover that the signal came from the ‘gate, going backward into the terminal.”

She paused, glancing around the table. “That could be a pretty neat gadget to have. For instance, if you step off-world and only notice when you get there that the DHD’s been irreparably damaged, you just whip out your little soap bubble and have it dial home for you. We’ve had that happen a couple of times already.” 

“What kind of technology are we talking about, Major?” Hammond probed with interest. 

“Only thing I know for sure is, it’s way more advanced than anything we have, sir,” she answered.  

“Let’s hope that’s a good thing. Did the bubble probe affect any of our equipment or programming?” 

“No, sir, not to my knowledge. It would take me a few days to run tests on everything it touched.” 

“You may not have time to do that yourself, Major Carter. Assign the tests you want performed to a team of our scientists here. Meanwhile, once we see what’s on the other side of that ‘gate address, I want SG-1 ready for an exploratory mission.”  

Hammond eyed Jack. “I’m assigning Doctor Lee as a temporary replacement for Doctor Jackson, Colonel. We cannot take the risk of letting him go off world at the present time, and you may need a linguist or cultural expert. I’ve sent for him and he’ll be joining us in the control room for the initial probe of this unknown world.” 

Jack’s left eyebrow arched but he made no protest about the assignment. Daniel was the only academic he wanted on his team, except that wasn’t an option this time. Lee was out of shape and whiney, but he was older than Jack so he’d cut the man a little slack. If they didn’t need an academic, however, Jack could always ask to just have a team of three for the meet and greet. 

“If there’s nothing else, let’s go down to the control room and see what the MALP can tell us about PX9-2YX.” 

Everyone rose and followed Hammond down the spiral stairs.

The appropriate address was dialed in, engaged and, when the wormhole was established, the MALP went through.  

Once it had emerged on the other side, it sent back images of a large, spacious, domed room with a handful of humanoid people standing around, talking excitedly as they examined the machine and looked back in anticipation at their Stargate, as if expecting more to come through its watery surface. 

Hammond spoke to them through the MALP radio relay.

"Greetings from the planet Earth. We mean you no harm and are only reciprocating following your probe of our base. We are curious about the device you sent through and would like to discuss its findings at your earliest convenience." 

The people gathered around the MALP listened intently, then started jabbering again when the machine fell silent. 

The General turned to Doctor Bill Lee. "Do you recognize that language, Doctor?" 

Lee frowned in concentration. "Sounded like an archaic French, maybe Middle French, which was spoken in the early twelfth century, though some of the pronunciations are very different, no doubt from the separate evolution of the language." 

"Can you manage it well enough to act as translator?" Hammond eyed the activities of the curious, smiling aliens. 

"Yes, sir, I think so." 

Hammond tore his eyes away from the viewer. "Let's get to it, then. SG-1, you have a go." 

Doctor Lee translated what the General had said and the surprised confusion of the aliens became delight.

One of them spoke to the MALP, offering a formal welcome of the unseen aliens to the world called Rouen.  

Minutes later, the team was hurrying to their locker room to suit up and returning to the ‘gate room to wait for Doctor Lee.

When he arrived, Jack swept him with a disapproving glance and headed up the ramp, hoping Lee didn’t screw up and get them all killed.  

A dozen people in long robes met them on the other side.

Doctor Lee performed the introductions, pointing out Jean de la Croix, Ministry of Science; the city chancellor; a social coordinator and Esme Bien, Watch Commander. 

The science guy wasn’t the typical nerdy type. He looked more like a lumberjack, big with beefy hands, dark hair and piercing gray eyes. The chancellor was an older man with an air of authority, like Hammond, only with thick, wavy gray hair.

Jack couldn’t figure why a social coordinator would have such a prominent post, but this guy rivaled Baal for being a fashion plate. His velvets and silks looked expensive, and he wore a lot of jewelry. Quite the fancy pants, in Jack’s opinion.  

The one Jack kept an eye on most, though, was the lone woman in the group. She was about Carter’s height and build but with long ash blonde hair and green eyes. Her face had an elfin quality to it, cute rather than pretty, but it was the _way_ she looked at them that got Jack’s attention.

She was threat assessing, picking him out as the one to watch, virtually ignoring Doctor Lee.

‘Watch Commander’ sounded like something police-oriented, so he figured she would naturally be the most suspicious of the visitors from Earth.

He could admire that in a woman, especially if she were good at her job like Carter. 

Jack dragged his attention from the woman and saw that de la Croix was holding the apparently inactivated bubble in his hand. 

Jack directed Doctor Lee to inquire about it. 

The linguist listened intently to de la Croix’s answer, his face expressing surprise and denial, then hurriedly arguing with the minister, shaking his head and waving his hands to support his verbal declaration. 

"What're they saying, Doc?" Jack demanded, growing more uneasy by the moment. 

"They said we stole something that belongs to them," Lee returned anxiously. "They don't seem angry about it, but they're insistent that we return it to them." 

"What did we supposedly steal?" 

"I'm not really clear on that, but I told them we've never been to this planet before, so we couldn't have stolen anything." Lee shrugged. "They're being pretty nice about it. They've invited us to dinner." 

"Just keep your eyes and ears open," Jack suggested, looking from Lee to the rest of his team. "If they can penetrate our shields, we don't wanna make these folks mad at us. Let's see if we can get this resolved peacefully, but let’s not be too trusting right out of the ‘gate."

He paused, realizing what he’d just said. "No pun intended, there, kids." 

"So do we go with them?" Lee asked, gesturing toward the few who had already stepped away to lead them off. 

Jack surveyed the big domed room with its arching white ceiling and beautifully carved walls. He didn't see anything that seemed to be a security threat, and the people themselves appeared unarmed, even Madame Bien.

"Until they give us reason to back off, we’ll see what they've got to say. Let's report in to Hammond first and see when he wants us to check back." 

Having been given clearance by the General to continue their dialogue, the four were escorted out of the ‘gate room and down a high-ceilinged, gothic-arched hallway into a grand foyer.

All four of the most important city ministers stepped onto a circle scribed in the middle of the floor, inviting the four team members from Earth to join them.

The Watch Commander spoke to Doctor Lee in warning, her hand poised over a wide silver bracelet on her wrist. 

Bill Lee turned to Jack. “We’re apparently going to be transported elsewhere to continue the talks. Is that okay?” 

“Transported how?” 

“Judging by the fact that Madame Bien is waiting for our agreement to press the button on her wrist,” Doctor Lee surmised, “possibly something like Goa’uld transport rings. A device of some kind that will take us some distance away.”

He shrugged. “I’m not clear on all the details. They use a lot of words that must describe modern technological devices for which the early French didn’t have terms.” 

“Just as long as we get advance warning and nobody makes any sudden moves,” agreed Jack. “Make sure they understand that. And I wanna know where we’ll be in relation to the Stargate so we’ll know how to get home… just in case.”

Jack nodded at the Frenchwoman. 

She touched the bracelet on her wrist and light flared around them. 

In silence they were transported instantaneously to a spacious, ornately decorated room dominated by a long table.

At the far end of the room was a balcony open to the outside and Jack wandered over to it while Doctor Lee translated what Jack had said.  

He checked out their location and looked outside to orient himself to the city.

The room was apparently in a tall tower overlooking the metropolitan area, most of which was carved from white or gray stone adorned with statues. It was a beautiful place, spreading out as far as the eye could see, tall spires and towers piercing the sky all around them. One building a few blocks down had a domed roof of a size to match the one housing the Stargate.  

Doctor Lee came up to him with Madame Bien to confirm that it was, indeed, the building from which they had come.

Jack traced a mental path through the maze of streets below, committing it to memory in case they needed to make a hasty exit. 

The city reminded him of pictures he'd seen of Paris, the buildings all very old looking. 

"Nice place you got here," Jack commented, remaining standing while the rest of the team took seats across from the city officials.

He gave the room another covert sweep, looking for all access points and finally taking a seat where he had a commanding view of the entrances. His hand never left his P-90, keeping it close in his lap, his chair pushed far enough back that – if the need arose – he could stand and fire without impediment. 

Jack noticed that Teal’c had chosen a chair close to his, facing the door, backing him up as always.

He leaned close as everyone smiled at each other, looking for a place to begin. “What do you think about these folks, T?” 

“They appear to have many technological advances,” the Jaffa rumbled back. “Their Watch Commander is a well-trained warrior and recognizes us as the same. We must proceed carefully if we are to earn their trust.” 

“That’s what I think, too.” 

Jack felt instinctively that there was no threat here, but that bubble thing still made him nervous.

 Anyone with that kind of technology was suspect. Even the Tollans, with their superior science, hadn't been completely trustworthy in his book. They were too damned innocent to be trusted, and their naïveté had gotten them wiped out.

He hoped these people were less trusting. With Madame Bien as an example, he thought they might be a little savvier in that regard. 

The science guy started talking.

Jack listened politely, watching Doctor Lee's face for clues to the conversation. 

“They said they tried to contact us before but their standard probes never reported back,” Lee explained. “That must have been the unexpected ‘gate activations we’ve experienced over the last week or so.” 

Jack grimaced. “They didn’t send any _people_ through, did they?” 

Lee asked, relieved at the answer. “No. Just probes, like we do. That bubble you described in the briefing was the last, designed to penetrate shields and seek out this treasure of theirs. I’ll see if I can find out more about it.” 

The linguist was adamant in his refusal of the charge of theft; the aliens explained a little more and understanding dawned on Lee's face at last. 

"They're saying the theft didn't occur here but on another world," he advised Jack. "We may have picked up an artifact or something while we were exploring. I'm sure, whatever it is, we can give it back. They seem to place a lot of importance on it." 

Jean de la Croix spoke, a ring of authority to his voice and, when he finished, the center of the table slid back to reveal what appeared to be a glass panel.

Beneath the surface of the glass, somewhere in the depths of the table, a light came on, and a holographic image appeared above the table, images forming in transparent light. 

Jack recognized the scene instantly.

PX7-669 had yielded nothing, but the arena they'd visited had been unique. It had reminded him of some of the smaller Roman stadiums, with wide stone benches weathered by rain and wind over centuries. One end of the arena had had a long passageway shadowed by tall gothic-arched columns leading to a small grotto. The back wall of the grotto had been covered with writing like nothing Daniel had ever seen, something he had declared was totally alien. 

They had puttered around the ruins for the better part of a day, then sent the UAV in sweeps around the area, finding nothing else of interest. They’d taken nothing from the planet save some photographs of the structures and writing.  

He relayed his memories to Doctor Lee.

The older man frowned, and then relayed the message to their alien hosts. 

Monsieur de la Croix shook his head and pointed to the hologram with his huge hand. 

As they watched, they saw the arena breached at its entrance by four figures that Jack recognized as SG-1.

The team prowled through the ruins, then the image skipped ahead to the moment when they had gone down the arched passageway into the grotto. He remembered the dialogue from that particular moment and fought off the embarrassment, hoping nobody else recalled it.

At least the aliens hadn’t recorded any sound to go with the pictures. 

He _hoped_ they hadn’t, anyway. 

The four figures in the image stood around while Daniel took pictures and speculated, mouth moving but no audio recording played back.

In time, Jack watched the team begin to leave and looked to de la Croix for more information.

The alien was gesticulating at the recording as if to prove his point. 

“I didn’t see anything,” Doctor Lee assured Jack. “I told them so, but M’sieur de la Croix seems certain your team picked something up in that grotto. He calls it…” Lee grinned and shook his head. “I’m sure I must be missing something in the translation here, the evolution of the language having gone in unexpected directions to account for alien phenomena, but—“ 

“Cut to the chase, Doc,” Jack demanded impatiently. 

“He’s calling it _‘illuminatus._ ’ ” 

“Which means?” 

“Considering the Latin source, it could be ‘the lights’ or ‘the enlightened ones.’ Whatever it is, they hold it in very high regard.”

Doctor Lee turned back to the science minister. “He says he’ll play it back with enhancements to show us what he means.” 

All eyes again turned to the hologram.

The figures reset to the moment when the four explorers entered the grotto.

Their human-looking exteriors vanished, becoming iridescent bipedal shapes, glowing with color. Carter, Teal’c and Jack’s own shapes pulsed with gray spots, making them look dim and dull, while Daniel glowed with brilliant white light. 

Jack’s stomach clenched.

 _That_ was what he had looked like as an Ancient, little filaments of light waving slowly about his human shape, like feelers of some kind.

Jack swallowed hard, wondering just what kind of enhancement this was, suddenly fearing that Daniel might not have descended _completely._  

Doctor Lee turned to him, translating softly as de la Croix spoke. 

“They are saying that these three,” Lee began, indicating Carter, O’Neill and Teal’c, “are tainted by possession of an alien mind, though you are now free of the Goa’uld.” 

That raised eyebrows all over the Tau’ri faces.

“So they know the Goa’uld,” Jack observed, “and they’re right. Daniel’s the only one of us who hasn’t been snaked.” 

“That must be _some_ recording device,” Carter breathed appreciatively, eyes wide and gleaming with interest. “I’d love to get a look at this technology, sir. We could use this kind of scanner to tell us if someone’s a host or not.” 

“In time,” Jack waved at her, putting her off. “Let’s see what they’re talkin’ about here, first.”

He turned back to the projection, listening as Lee’s translation resumed. 

“Daniel is clearly the only choice here, the pure vessel which the… uh… _illuminatus_ will choose.”

Lee cleared his throat. “I’m not real clear on this, Colonel. I’ll ask—“ 

Just then the walls of the grotto in the recording seemed to come alive with sparkles. A cloud of brilliant points of light like a swarm of fireflies flew about the four human shapes, all making their way quickly to Daniel as he expounded on the alien writing, his voice now audible.

With each intake of breath, the lights entered his body until they became part of his glowing shape. 

Daniel stopped talking for a moment.

Jack remembered the puzzled look on the man’s face at that instant and heard the recording play back Daniel’s question for everyone to hear.

He was thankful that Lee wasn’t translating the conversation for the aliens.

 

_“Does anybody else smell that?”_

_Jack had glanced around himself with feigned innocence of the fart he'd just passed. “It wasn’t me,” he had said flatly._

_Daniel had rolled his eyes. “No, really. It smelled like roses.”_

_That had been too good a punch-line setup to resist. Jack had grinned at his friend. “Okay, maybe it_ was _me.”_

_Daniel had seemed insistent, aware of something, but uncertain what it was. “Jack, look around. Do you see any roses? Any flowers of any kind? Am I sneezing?”_

_“Okay, so it wasn’t flowers and it wasn’t me. So… what?”_

_“So… I have no idea... but I smelled something. I’m sure of it.”_

 

Eyes glued to the holographic images they were seeing, Jack’s hands tightened around the P-90. He saw the glowing things in Daniel’s body, wondering just what the hell they were and how to get rid of them. He thought about the timing just as Carter spoke up. 

“Sir, that was just a few days before the first reported sighting of the Man in Black,” she said, her face filled with worry. 

Jack addressed Lee, his voice low and intense. “So ask them how to get the damn things _out_ of Daniel. Tell them they’re _killing_ him.” 

The linguist nodded and turned back to de la Croix.

They talked for a few minutes, and the woman across from Jack jumped into the conversation, talking animatedly.

She kept gesturing toward the window, so Jack got up to look out of it. 

He took notice of the tall spires all over the city, the decorative sculptures on every face. Statues perched at prominent places overlooking doorways, most of them ugly and misshapen creatures carved of the same dark gray stone. He thought about the Hunchback of Notre Dame and all the gargoyles decorating that cathedral, but there were no bells or bell towers anywhere in the skyline, just the gothic-style architecture and the big, ugly statues on the rooftops. 

“What’s that word she keeps sayin’?” he asked, returning to the table. “That _gaidune_ thing.” 

Bill Lee turned to make eye contact. “Your pronunciation is atrocious, Colonel. It’s a corruption of the Old French—“ 

Jack held up a hand impatiently. “Spare me the lecture.  Just give me English, doc!” 

“ _‘Guardian_ ,’ is what Madame Bien is saying.” Doctor Lee rubbed his forehead.

“Best I can make out, they have a class of citizens they call the Guardians, and this _illuminatus_ stuff belongs solely to them. They sometimes have competitions to determine who gets it, and apparently SG-1 wandered in just before time for their games. Daniel accidentally claimed the prize because he carried… a pure heart.” 

Jack sighed. “Leave it to Daniel. He doesn’t even have to _touch_ stuff now to get in trouble. It just comes to him.”

He sighed heavily. “So what do we have to do to get rid of it?” 

“I’m working on that part.” Bill glanced at Carter and Teal’c. “These people are being very nice, considering they think we’ve breached some sort of sacred trust here. I think we should learn more about their society, while we’re at it.” 

 _“First_ we find out how to fix Daniel.  After all, it’s the only reason we came here.”

Jack returned the window, studying the building just across the street from the one where they stood. It looked more formal than the others around it and was surrounded by a grassy park filled with winding paths lined with flowers. It was a beautiful building that reminded Jack of an old European church without the crosses. Crouched all over it were countless statues, their stone wings spread to catch the sun and cast big patches of shade beneath them on the parapets and balconies. 

“Working on that, sir,” Doctor Lee assured him, and turned back to the alien council to discuss how to accomplish that goal.

* * *

 

After eight hours of waiting around while Doctor Lee spoke with the aliens and then translated for him, Jack finally had enough information to return to Earth and report.  

General Hammond had then given the go-ahead for a return trip, and now he had come to the infirmary to tell Doctor Fraiser what he’d learned.  

Jack stood in the observation booth, gazing down on the isolation room where Daniel lay sedated, shaking off the drugs and heading toward wakefulness.

His eyes were glazed, not seeing anything in the room, only what was going on in his tortured mind.

He struggled to rise and finally broke free of the restraints, his wobbly movements growing steadier as Jack watched.  

Daniel’s chest started to heave. His hands flexed into a claw-like formation that tightened into fists and opened again. Then he began to race around the room, leaping up on his bed and dropping down on the far side, shadow-boxing with unseen opponents.  

 _He looked crazy._  

That tore Jack up, because he knew Daniel wasn’t, although it sure looked like he was headed that way. 

Doctor Fraiser met him in the booth. Her eyes were haunted, worried.

“You have something to report, Colonel?” she asked quietly, a note of hope in her voice. 

“Yeah. We know what’s causing…” He waved a hand at the slanted glass panels looking down on the room. “…that. The natives of PXniner-2YX call it _illuminatus_. We think you should come back with us when we take Daniel there and talk to some of their science people.” 

“Do they know what this _illuminatus_ is?” Fraiser glanced down at her patient. 

Jack nodded. “Daniel breathed it in on PX7-669. We didn’t see it when it happened. Stuff’s invisible till they enhance it.”

He didn’t describe the recorded vision of the team as colored lights, but he could still see it quite vividly in his mind’s eye. “Doc Lee’s tryin’ to find out more about it.  I gotta hand it to him, he’s done a pretty good job.” 

“Do they have a way of removing it from Daniel’s system? I couldn’t find _any_ evidence of alien substances in his body. I’m interested to learn more about this anomaly.” 

Clearing his throat, Jack felt his stomach tighten. “They said the stuff can be coaxed into leaving him.”

He swallowed hard. “It’s apparently a _colony_ of intelligent beings. Really tiny beings. At least that’s what Doctor Lee thinks they are. He’s still a little unclear about all that. Language barrier thing.”

Under his breath, he added, “Daniel could figure it out, though, if he were...” 

He pursed his lips and shook his head. 

Fraiser turned those big brown eyes back up to him, a tiny smile hitching up one corner of her mouth. “That should be familiar territory for you, sir. Remember that orb and the bacteria it carried that colonized you and half the base?” 

He nodded. “Daniel hasn’t run any fever or anything. There weren’t any outward signs…” He paused. “Well, there were, but we weren’t associating that with alien life forms. I guess we should take sharper notice of unusual behaviors until we know for sure it’s just somebody going through a mid-life crisis or find evidence that they’ve been… compromised.” 

“We can’t afford to take _anything_ for granted at the SGC,” Fraiser echoed in agreement. “This didn’t affect Daniel overnight. His behavior changed so gradually that no one really noticed it until it had far too strong a hold on him.”

She turned and laid one small hand on his arm. “We’ll find a way to help him, Colonel. I promise.”

Then she patted him and left to inform General Hammond of the news. 

Jack watched over Daniel, clenching his teeth, his stomach twisting up in knots, until Teal’c came to the booth to announce that everyone was ready for departure.  

All that remained was preparing Daniel to go off-world.

Carter had been assigned the duty of packing up suitable clothing for Daniel to change into when he was himself again.

The three team members gathered outside the door with Doctor Fraiser, now suited up in BDUs, bearing a syringe filled with a powerful sedative.

Four orderlies stood with her, ready to help take their friend down. 

She gave the nod and Jack opened the door, letting the orderlies in first. Teal’c took point for the team, positioning himself just inside the door. Jack went in second, making eye contact with the wild man. Daniel was standing on the far side of the room and leaped up onto the bed, settling down in a brooding squat, staring at Jack in silence, alpha to alpha.

Everyone else he ignored. 

Jack heard Fraiser and Carter come in behind him and close the door. 

“Come down, Daniel,” Jack ordered gently. “There’s something alien inside you, and we’re gonna take you to a place where some nice folks can get it out.” 

The dangerous gleam in those blue eyes intensified. He lowered his head, staring at Jack from beneath his thick brows. He looked like a predatory beast, issuing a silent challenge. 

“You don’t wanna fight me,” Jack murmured to his friend, his voice soft and low, full of reassurance and kindness.

He took several slow, careful steps toward the bed, angling slightly to the side rather than confronting Daniel head-on.

His whole body tensed up, knowing Daniel was going to attack before he moved a muscle.

“We’re gonna _help_ you, Daniel. You have to just sit there and be still and quiet. Okay? You gonna cooperate, buddy?” 

The orderlies slowly came closer, behind and beside Daniel, closing the gap, ready to restrain him. 

Jack didn’t want them to do this, didn’t want to take the chance of his friend being hurt, but it had to be done. Daniel had to be subdued and sedated before they could risk taking him through the Stargate. 

He kept talking, maintaining eye contact with his friend while the orderlies sneaked up on him. 

Just before they closed in Daniel leaped off the bed, knocking one of the men flat on his back on the concrete floor.

Daniel’s bare feet landed on his chest, pushing the air out of him, using his body as a springboard for a jump toward the door.

Jack sidestepped, positioning himself between Daniel and the door while the orderlies swooped down on him, pinning him to the polished concrete floor. 

Daniel hissed in frustration and rage as Fraiser stuck him with the syringe, emptying its contents into him. She stepped back quickly, leaving the orderlies to keep Daniel secured until the medication took effect. After a few minutes he slumped to the floor, boneless and unconscious. 

“Keep your hands on him until he’s secured to that gurney,” Janet warned them. “I want double restraints this time!”

She bent down to see about the man who had been flattened by the archaeologist, penlight in hand, while the other three men strapped Daniel down.

“How’re you feeling, Airman?” 

“Dented,” the orderly shot back, not attempting to move. 

“You took a nice knock to the head. How many fingers?” 

“Three.” He got carefully to his feet, rubbing at the back of his head.  

Doctor Fraiser gave orders for him to report to Doctor Warner for an exam while she finished prepping Daniel for the trip and sent the young man out of the isolation room. 

While she examined her patient, Jack thought about Daniel’s break for freedom.

He wondered if it were the _illuminatus_ controlling him or simply that Daniel had developed into more of an athlete lately. He also wondered why Daniel hadn’t been talking. As far as Jack could tell, Daniel hadn’t said a word, hadn’t screamed or howled or made a sound except for that weird hissing since Jack had returned to collect his teammate. 

There was no way to tell for sure while he was infected with that damned organism. 

“Let’s get Daniel to the aliens who want to take those things out of him,” he growled when Doctor Fraiser nodded that she was ready to go.

He resettled his black baseball cap on his head and pushed the foot of the narrow gurney while Teal’c pulled on the head of it, guiding it toward the ‘gate room.

Janet and Carter marched alongside. 

Checking his watch as they emerged on the other side of the wormhole, Jack saw that nearly ten hours had passed since first contact with the citizens of Rouen.  

The long gurney was too big to fit onto their transporter pad, so this time SG-1 and Doctor Fraiser were led out of a building downtown and escorted on foot to the big gray building Jack had admired from the balcony of the meeting hall.

As they walked, Jack saw that the sun was low in the sky on that world.

He hoped the sudden change in circadian rhythm would help Daniel, or at least not make things worse. 

Carter and Janet pushed the gurney along while Jack and Teal’c walked beside it.

Jack stole a glance at his friend’s face and saw that Daniel’s eyes were open. That sent a shiver of alarm through Jack, because the man should have been unconscious for several hours.

“Doc,” he called softly, nodding toward Daniel to draw Fraiser’s attention there. 

Janet and Sam stopped walking, and they all came to a standstill. 

“Daniel, how are you feeling?” Janet asked solicitously, stroking his hair and the side of his face to surreptitiously check his temperature and offer a little comfort. She smiled at him. 

Daniel’s eyes widened.

He looked lucid and surprised as hell as he struggled against his restraints, trying to get up. 

“Just be still, Daniel,” Janet cautioned gently. “We can’t let you up yet. Do you know where you are?” 

He blinked at her, focusing on her face but remained eerily silent. 

Jack reached over as they resumed walking beside the bed and touched the doctor on the shoulder to get her to look at him. “Has he said anything lately? Talked at all?” 

She frowned. “Come to think of it, no. He hasn’t said a word since this morning.”

She turned back to her patient. “Daniel, can you talk to me? I need you to say something. Try it. Say my name.” 

Daniel relaxed against the pillow, his expression shifting to one almost of tranquility. He smiled a little but made no effort to try to speak. Then he looked upward, wonder gleaming in his eyes as they came to the front entrance of the grey building with the tall spires.

He smiled and closed his eyes. 

“Looks like he’s happy to be here anyway,” Jack observed.

He patted Daniel’s shoulder and slipped his hand back into its familiar spot cradling his P-90 as they entered the building.

* * *

 _He is here_ , announced the eldest Guardian, that thought echoing through all the others. None of them moved except one or two, changing the angle of their heads to view the procession below. 

 _Strong,_ thought another. 

 _Wise,_ came another still. _And so young._

 _I feel pretty old,_ said Daniel. 

A shiver ran through them all at once, followed by a startled rise in messages darting from one mind to another. 

 _He hears us! He speaks to us! How can this be? He has not been connected!_  

The eldest shifted on his perch, catching a little more of the sun’s fading rays.

 _This one,_ the old one announced with a trace of joy, _has the soul of a Guardian. We must welcome him in the old way when it is time._  

A ripple of wonder passed through the community, every head turning now to watch the caravan far below as they entered the Watchtower.

The Guardians listened and learned the ancient greeting from those who still remembered it, all but lost in the passage of time.  

As the sun slipped behind the mountains surrounding the city and the afterglow faded into full darkness, the Guardians stirred from their perches atop the buildings all over the city, rising into the sky on silent wings, waiting for the Visitor to join them. 

The Rouenese were accustomed to this nightly flight, and none of them ever looked up to see them as they rose into the air.

* * *

Doctor Lee and Esme Bien met them in the lofty foyer of the Watchtower.

She eyed Daniel suspiciously. “Is this the one?” she asked in heavily accented English. 

“You speak our language?” Carter asked, startled. 

“I have learned it,” answered Esme with a slight smile. “Your Doctor Lee has provided us with a translation of many of your words and I have had the information…” She frowned and touched her temple with one finger, searching for the proper words to explain.

Finally she shrugged. “I have learned it.” 

Doctor Lee smiled and shook his head in wonder. “I recorded a translation for them, and she had it downloaded into her mind,” he reported. “ _Amazing_ technology, Major Carter. These people will blow you away with what they can do. And wait till you hear what the _illuminatus_ are.” 

“Invisible fireflies?” Jack asked, spooked by the alien woman’s new skill.

He wasn’t sure he wanted her understanding what they were saying… but then, he had ways of communicating with his people that she wouldn’t get. In a pinch, hand signals would do. 

Esme clasped her hands behind her back and lifted her chin. “We have made arrangements for a more pleasant welcome, which awaits you in the tower upstairs.”

Her gaze dropped down to Daniel again. “Is this the one who stole the _illuminatus?”_  

“He didn’t _steal_ it,” Jack shot back. “It went _into_ him. He didn’t ask for it to go there.” 

With a slight inclination of her head, she acquiesced. “You are correct, Colonel O’Neill. He did not.”

She bent over Daniel and made eye contact.

The necklace at her throat dangled in the air between them and Daniel’s eyes were drawn to it. 

Jack saw Daniel’s right hand jerk against the restraint, as if he meant to catch hold of the necklace. 

She saw the movement and caught the silver fob dangling from it, holding it up in front of Daniel’s eyes. “You wanted to see this?” she asked him gently. 

Daniel nodded. He squinted, trying to see it clearly without the aid of his glasses.

Noticing his difficulty, Janet pulled them from the breast pocket of her BDU jacket and slipped them on him.

He studied the symbol silently until his face relaxed and then Esme moved away. 

“What is that?” asked Jack. He nodded toward the necklace she settled against her chest as she straightened up. 

“It is the mark of my station,” she told him proudly, offering no explanation. Gesturing toward Daniel with her hand, she asked, “Why do you have him bound? He will do no harm to us.” 

“We don’t want him to hurt _himself,”_ Janet clarified. “Daniel has been… this _illuminatus_ is hurting him. If we don’t extract it from him soon, it’ll kill him.” 

“Of course,” said Esme coolly. “It was not meant for mere human bodies. We are too weak to carry it.” She started off toward the interior of the building. “Please come with me.” 

Jack frowned, bringing up the rear and signaling Teal’c to take point.

 _If the illuminatus organisms weren’t meant for humans, then who was it meant for, and what were they?_ Jack wondered. 

Bill turned to make eye contact with him as they walked. “I found out what the Guardians are and this you’re not going to believe this, Colonel. The _illuminatus_ is…”

His bushy gray brows pinched together. “I’m not sure exactly how to describe it, but I’ve seen a recording of their origin. When the Guardians die, their bodies fragment into bright particles of energy.” 

“So the _illuminatus_ actually _are_ the Guardians,” Sam summed up. “Sort of like… ascended, maybe? Still Guardians but on a different plane of existence?” 

Lee nodded. “Apparently it’s invisible to the naked eye. Madame Bien has promised to explain further. I haven’t had time to research the phenomenon as much as I’d like, since I was mostly working on the translation to help us communicate.” 

Jack gave him a brusque nod. “Good job, Bill. I’m glad you’re with us on this.” 

Lee smiled at him, grateful for the acknowledgement from the hard-nosed Colonel. 

The group came to a wide stone staircase. 

The Watch Commander had gone a dozen steps before she remembered that the gurney was on wheels. “You may release your prisoner,” she told them, pausing on the steps to gaze down on them. “No harm will come to him here, and he will not be allowed to harm others. He will be safe.  You have my word.” 

Janet looked to Jack, who considered Esme’s assurance.

These folks knew what _illuminatus_ was and what it did, so she must be right. He had no reason not to trust them, but still he kept himself on alert just in case all was not as it seemed with the Rouenese.

He gave the nod, and Fraiser and Carter began to unfasten the straps.

They helped Daniel up and onto his feet, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and took his elbows as he mounted the stairs with a wobbly gait. 

Esme turned and continued up the stairs, leading them up several flights, down corridors and into the tower at the front of the building that Jack had admired from across the street. She ushered them into a small room where a table and chairs had been set up. On a sideboard were stacks of plates, silverware and glasses. Sharing the space were platters of sliced meats, cheeses, pastries, vegetables, fruit, and pitchers of water and juice. 

“Come, eat, and we will talk,” Esme invited them, standing beside the sideboard to pour their drinks. “I hope our food will be acceptable to you.” 

“All we wanna know is how to get the bugs out of Daniel,” Jack told her, his eyes following his younger teammate as Daniel strolled about the room.

As he watched, Daniel stopped and looked down at the food, sniffed, and wandered away. 

“This is simple,” the Watch Commander returned. “The _illuminatus_ will leave of their own accord, when a stronger champion is presented.” 

“Which is?” Jack prompted. 

“One of the Guardians, Colonel.” She nodded toward the balcony looking out at city hall. 

“What are they and where do we find one?” Jack’s hand hadn’t stopped caressing his P-90.

He knew that, with Daniel, things were never as easy as they were supposed to be.

He nervously watched the archaeologist heading for the balcony. 

Daniel dropped his blanket. The look on his face was beatific, just like that photo they had taken of him for his formal portrait.

He ambled slowly closer to the railing, and Jack dashed after him, terrified he was going to fall off.

Or jump. 

“Let him go, Colonel,” Esme commanded, the ring of authority in her voice. 

“Like hell I will!” he snapped, firmly gripping Daniel’s upper arm and trying to haul him back inside the room. “I’m not letting him fall off. We’re at least twelve stories up, for cryin’ out loud!” 

Jack felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced down to see Janet calling him off with a touch.

There was a look of wonder in her eyes as she gazed beyond him, up at the sky.

The rest of the team had gathered out on the balcony with them, and all of them were looking up, stunned by what they saw. 

Jack turned, glancing up over his shoulder at the night sky.

A _whoosh_ sounded nearby, followed moments later by another and another, all at precisely timed intervals.

At first he didn’t see anything.

Glancing at Daniel’s upturned face and the bright smile there, Jack let go of him, and Daniel raised his arms in a gesture of welcome. 

Something was out there, doing close fly-bys.

Jack put his back to the lighted room, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

In a moment or two, he could see the shapes, eight feet long with wingspans of more than twice that, swooping downward between the Watchtower and the city hall, then rising back up again and moving off toward other parts of the city.

Jack squinted, trying to see some detail in the dark shapes, but he could hardly believe what his eyes were telling him. 

The things were vaguely human-shaped, with a head, two arms held at their sides, and two legs, but that was where the resemblance ended. They had wings, for one thing, and most of them seemed to have long, snaky tails. Some had horns on their misshapen heads. The creatures were dark and rough-looking like stone, black and solid shapes against the night and the gray building across the street. 

 _Gargoyles_ , he told himself, remembering the statues he had seen earlier decorating every rooftop in sight in the city.

They were living stone statues, flying through the air in precise formations, just missing each other by fractions. Their aerial technique was awe inspiring and their appearance terrifying.

Never in a million years had he expected to see anything like these creatures, alive and swooping gracefully through the air with the precision of falcons and the speed of swifts. 

Jack studied Daniel.

 _Gargoyles_ were doing _fly-bys_ for _Daniel,_ showing off for him.

Jack felt suddenly ill and light-headed. He cradled the P-90 with both hands, thumb pushing off the safety, then sliding his right index finger into the trigger guard, just in case one of them made a move toward the balcony. 

“They are welcoming him,” Esme murmured in awe, sidling up on the other side of the group, eyes on the sky. “I have never seen this display, but we have legends of it from ancient days. It is a great honor they give to your friend.”  

She reached out after the last creature had flown off and touched Daniel’s shoulder. “Can you speak with them, Daniel?” 

He looked at her but made no attempt to answer.

A moment later he turned back to the night, his smile fading. His eyes grew glassy, and Jack recognized that look. 

“It’s _happening_ , Doc,” he reported, tension rising inside him. “ _Do_ something!” 

“What is happening?” demanded Esme. 

“Your _illuminatus_ makes him crazy,” Jack snapped. “It’s _killing_ him! I suggest you call one of those things in here and make it get the bugs out of him right _now_.” 

Esme’s expression closed. She lifted her chin. “It is not that simple, Colonel.” 

“With Daniel it never is. So what do we have to do?” 

The Watch Commander’s green eyes shifted to Daniel as Janet pulled him gently off the balcony and guided him to a chair, wrapping him up in the blanket again.

“You do nothing. Daniel must challenge a young Guardian, one who is not already a bearer of the _illuminates…_ and lose.” 

A snappy comeback died on Jack’s lips.

He thought about the gargoyle statues at home, how ugly and menacing they looked, since he hadn’t gotten a really detailed look at the live ones outside.

On Earth, some were small and harmless-looking but the things he had seen out there silhouetted against the night sky looked huge.

Bigger than Teal’c.

He figured one of those things could easily make mincemeat out of Daniel, and that scared him. 

“I don’t want Daniel hurt,” he said adamantly. 

“That cannot be guaranteed.” 

“I don’t want him killed, maimed or crippled.” 

A long moment of silence passed. “How good a fighter is your Daniel?” 

Jack snorted. “Look, lady, anybody can throw a fight if the prize is big enough.” 

“I do not understand this ‘throwing a fight.’ If you mean that Daniel might lose intentionally, you are wrong. The _illuminatus_ inside him will not allow it. The challenger will do what is necessary to prove it is worthy to carry them. There can be no guarantees.” 

“Has one already been chosen?” asked Sam. 

“One will come forth when we return to the arena,” Esme explained.  

“I wanna talk to it,” Jack demanded. 

“They do not speak,” said Esme. “Not to humans. Only when one of them dies do they vocalize, and they live a very, very long time. No one in recent times has heard that sound, though we do have recordings of it.”

She shook her head and came to stand before Jack, gazing up at him with great pride. “I alone of my people can hear them, when they wish it. I have been altered to be the link between my people and theirs.” 

Intuition hit, linking up concepts.

“The Watch Commander,” Jack murmured. “Those gargoyles… they’re _your_ night watch. Your guardians. They protect you from yourselves.”

He looked at Daniel with sudden understanding.

That was _exactly_ what the Colorado Springs ninja had been doing, a galaxy away.  

“Yes, Colonel.” She nodded. “The _illuminatus_ enhances their ability to find—“ 

“—crimes in progress,” Jack finished for her. “I know. Daniel’s been on night watch for too long now. He needs to retire, but I need to know he won’t get killed. We need to see some of your gargoyles in action, watch how they fight, so I can help him prepare.” 

Esme blinked at him. “How will you do that?” 

Jack nodded at man in the chair, huddled in the blanket.

“Got a crime detector right there, ma’am. All we need is transportation.” 

She shook her head. “He will choose a crime where he may be of help, not one that has already been covered by one of the other Guardians. They communicate with each other, choosing the call nearest them and warning the others away.” 

Jack rubbed his face with his hand. “Like cops on the radio, running everything through dispatch,” he mumbled. 

“Madame Bien,” called Carter, “do you have any recordings of past challenges in the arena? Or maybe some of the crimes your Guardians stopped were recorded. On our world, we sometimes have people in the right place at the right time with a video recorder who capture crimes on film, though they’re rare.” 

“That we do,” Esme assured them. “Come. I will show you our Guardians in action.” 

She led the team across the street to the same meeting room in the city hall that they’d been in earlier. While they walked, Jack glanced up at the night sky and saw nothing.

Apparently the night watch had begun. 

“So these _illuminatus_ , they actually _are_ the Guardians?” he asked, remembering Daniel’s ascension and wondering if, perhaps, these creatures had a similar form of evolution to a higher plane of existence. “Why do they need somebody to live in and why’d they pick Daniel?” 

“They do not need a host,” Esme returned, holding up a hand to stop the traffic and allow her guests to cross the street. “Those who are our Guardians maintain a number that expands with our population. When a new Guardian is needed, one of the _séréf_ —“ 

“What’s that?” Jack cut in. 

Esme glanced up at him as he walked by her side. _“Séréf_ is our name for what they are when they do not host the _illuminatus_. When one of the _séréf_ or a Guardian dies, they become _illuminatus_. The _illuminatus_ then choose a champion. Of those on your team exploring the…”

She glanced at Doctor Lee for a descriptive word. 

“Grotto,” he supplied instantly.

“When your team explored the grotto, your Daniel was the only possible choice. The _illuminatus_ could not distinguish species because they cannot sense your bodies. They were drawn to the light that is the true image of his being. The light that you saw in our recording.” 

Jack glanced at Daniel, walking with Doctor Fraiser’s arm linked in his on one side, Carter’s through the other.

Of course the fireflies would have been drawn to him, if they saw him like he was in that recording.

Only they weren’t meant to be stuck in a human body.  

He glanced upward again and saw the dark shape of a gargoyle patrolling the sky above.

The fireflies were meant to live in _those_ things, sturdy and strong, still and quiet during the day and keeping watch over the city at night.

They looked indestructible, and Jack suspected human beings were pretty fragile compared to them. 

Ten minutes later, dinner forgotten, the Tau’ri group sat with the Watch Commander in the city hall, staring at the holographic display.

A vision of the off-world arena came up, and Esme explained that the combat they were about to see was between two _séréf_ , rather than a Guardian and a human. 

The fight was brutal and long, lasting nearly two hours. Much of it took place in the air over the arena, but one of the _séréf_ got its wing smashed and was forced to fight on the ground afterward.

Jack had that one pegged as the winner and felt vindicated when it triumphed over its opponent. However, the loser was carried off the field and Esme reported that the young warrior later died from its wounds. 

Esme cued up another hologram, this one taken from surveillance footage somewhere in the city. She explained the background of the crime taking place, how many lives were at stake, and Jack watched in horror as the gargoyle made short, bloody work of the human criminal.

A couple of rakes of those razor-tipped claws and the man was trying to pick his guts up off the ground and stuff them back inside his shredded body before he died. 

Jack put his head down on the table, sick at heart.

If the _illuminatus_ didn’t kill Daniel, the _séréf_ would.

There seemed to be no way to win this battle. 

“When does this contest take place?” asked Teal’c after a long silence. 

“Tomorrow, just before dawn on our world,” Esme told them quietly. “The Guardians must rest in the sun to collect energy. They are active at night and as dawn is breaking on this world, the sun has just set on theirs.” 

“That was their homeworld?” asked Sam. “The one with the arena?” 

Esme nodded. “They came to this world to help free us from the Goa’uld. When they had done that, we asked them to stay and watch over us. They chose to do so, to live lives with purpose, rather than return to their home and have none.”

She smiled proudly. “They are a noble race, people of the Tau’ri. I wish you had them on your world, so you could better understand our relationship with them.” 

“I think we might’ve had ‘em there at one time,” Jack guessed, remembering Notre Dame and all the hundreds of statues on its ramparts. “Maybe they helped us fight the Goa’uld there, too. There are statues of ‘em on a lot of our old buildings.”

He shrugged. 

“Most likely put there to honor the Guardians of ancient legend,” added Doctor Lee, “or in the hope of inviting them back as protection from evil.” 

“Only when the Stargate closed in Egypt, they couldn’t come back,” Jack finished. “So they became myths.” 

Suddenly aware of eyes intensely focused on him, he looked up. 

Daniel was smiling at him, nodding his head. 

“You got that, buddy? Was I right?” Jack wanted to smile.

This seemed to be the first evidence that Daniel could still understand them.

That gave him a little hope. 

“So, what do we do, sir?” Carter prodded gently.  

Jack eyed the hole in the table where the hologram projector was buried, remembering the brief, bloody fight between human and gargoyle.

Then he looked at Doctor Fraiser and back at the Watch Commander. 

“Reckon one of these things would let our doctor poke and prod it a little?” he asked her. 

Esme’s fine pewter brows drew together in confusion.

“Such actions would only irritate them. I do not think they would allow it.” 

Janet spoke up, drawing the alien woman’s attention. “I’d like to take some tissue samples and examine one up close,” she clarified. “If Daniel’s going to have a fighting chance, he needs to go in armed with knowledge, to understand what he’s up against.” 

“Ah.” Esme folded her hands on the table. “We have biological data on them, if that is what you wish. I can have the information translated aloud into your language. We may not have _all_ of the words translated, however.” 

“I’ll go with, to help with that,” Dr. Lee volunteered. 

“I’m all yours,” Janet stated boldly, rising from the table. “Colonel, if you’d like to take everyone back across the street for some dinner, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

* * *

Jack watched Daniel warily as they walked out into the street.

The Rouenese used vehicles rather like wave runners that traveled on a cushion of air, moving in orderly patterns down the wide boulevard. Traffic stopped for the pedestrians and, when they mounted the flagstone pavement fronting the Watchtower, a sudden sound made Jack look up. 

Instantly he was pushing Daniel down to the ground, P-90 held in both hands and taking aim instinctively at the huge creature swooping low over their heads.

It landed a few feet away with a quiet _whish,_ folded its wings and took a step toward the group. 

“Hold it right there!” Jack demanded. 

The gargoyle froze and moved its gaze from Daniel to Jack.

It stretched to its full height of eight feet, staring down at him, and crossed its arms over its chest.

Its black eyes narrowed, studying him. 

In the glow of the streetlights, Jack could see it clearly now. It towered over him, skin looking like gray, pitted granite. Its shoulders and arms were massive, hands so huge they could have folded completely around his head and squished it like a grape. Its legs were bent at the knee into a shallow crouch, and its feet looked more like they belonged on an enormous St. Bernard than resembling anything human.   

A long tail extended from its backside, reclining on the grass beside its feet in a graceful curve. Broad, thick bat-like wings flared out from its shoulders, and its head, while vaguely resembling something quasi-human in shape, was dominated by those big black eyes, shining like smoothly polished obsidian in its face. A broad, aquiline nose hooked over an almost non-existent lipless mouth, set into a strong, squared chin. Pointed ears arched toward the back of its head, which was covered in a mass of what looked like tiny tentacles, or maybe really thick, greenish hair. Its body was uniformly the same color all over, except for small patches of stuff on its shoulders and thighs that looked like velvety green moss. 

Its facial expression seemed calm, not a hint of emotion showing other than the slight narrowing of its eyes as it regarded Jack. He couldn’t tell if it was threatening and about to attack or just dropping by to say a friendly gargoyle hello, and that made him jumpy.

The only thing he knew for certain was that it was interested in Daniel. 

The younger man got slowly to his feet again, pulling his blanket closer about him, and stepped between Jack and the creature.

Daniel held up one hand, palm out, telling Jack to take no action.

Then he turned and walked toward the gargoyle, a wondering smile on his face. 

Jack clenched his teeth, squeezing his weapon a little harder.

“You know how I hate it when you do stuff like this, Daniel,” he called after the man.

Those things were dangerous. Jack had seen the damage they could do and how easily they managed it. He didn’t trust them near his teammate, especially since Daniel was under the influence of their _illuminatus_. 

For a moment, man and alien just looked at each other.

The creature’s gaze rolled slowly back to Jack’s tense face, then back to Daniel before it moved.

One hand, bristling with razor sharp claws, reached out slowly toward Daniel.

It eyed Jack again before it made contact, as if asking permission. 

It seemed more curious than threatening, so Jack waited anxiously, ready to shoot it if it made the wrong move.  

Those thick, rough-looking fingers lightly brushed Daniel’s cheek.

As its hand drew away, Daniel caught it, running his fingers over the stony-textured flesh. 

“Wow,” Carter breathed at his elbow. “They’re checking each other out.” 

The gargoyle squatted down a little farther, dropping down to Daniel’s height. For a moment, they just stared at each other, not a sound passing between them.

Daniel half turned and gestured at his friends, one hand raised as if to ask them to wait.

The gargoyle pointed upward, and Jack looked up, catching sight of a few more dark shapes now flying overhead. 

“Are they communicating?” asked Teal’c. “I hear nothing.” 

“Maybe they’re telepathic,” suggested Carter. “Madame Bien said she’d been altered to communicate with them. Maybe this _illuminatus_ thing might make it possible for Daniel to link up with them. I’d love to listen in on _that_ conversation.”

She was smiling, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

Jack turned his attention back to Daniel and his new friend.

He took a step forward when Daniel moved very close to the creature, studying something on its chest. The archaeologist’s free hand was touching it and in the wash from the street lights Jack saw that it was a symbol just like the one on the Watch Commander’s pendant, only this one appeared to be carved into the gargoyle’s chest.

It appeared to be a simple eye, standing on end between the creature’s pectorals, right over its heart – if it even had one. 

As a commotion sounded in the street behind him, Jack instinctively turned to glance at the traffic accident. People were shouting and getting off their vehicles while others sought to move around them. His attention was diverted for only a few seconds, but a shout from Teal’c made him turn back to check on his teammate and the gargoyle.  

“Daniel!” cried Carter, rushing forward to where he had been standing a moment earlier. 

He and the creature were gone. 

Jack clenched his teeth, glancing upward as man and creature rose steadily and swiftly into the night sky, those broad wings flapping noiselessly in strong, powerful strokes that pushed against the air and lifted them higher, angling over the street and the courtyard surrounding the Watchtower.

The creature held Daniel effortlessly against its chest, clutching him gently as if he were weightless and incredibly precious.

Daniel had his arm around the creature’s neck, his face filled with joy, a bright smile on his lips, his eyes on the sky. 

Jack couldn’t shoot the creature down without risking injuring Daniel, either from a bullet or the fall, and he watched helplessly as the pair disappeared into the dark sky.  

This was _exactly_ what he had been afraid of happening.

As always, Daniel was just being Daniel, going off to explore something new and exciting without thinking about letting his C.O. know what he was planning.

With an exasperated sigh, Jack jogged back across the street, dodging traffic, hell-bent on finding the Watch Commander and making her have her minion bring back his archaeologist. 

Esme Bien was just coming out of the city hall to meet them. 

Jack grabbed her by the upper arm, impatience, frustration and anxiety getting in the way of reason.

She spun quickly out of his grip and behind him, slamming into his back with her elbow and sending him staggering forward a few steps.

That cleared his head a little and when he faced her again, he apologized.

“Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to lay hands on you like that.”

He glanced upward, pointing with one finger. “But one of your big honkin’ flying statues just ran off with my teammate, and he’s got _no_ business being out there doing God knows what with it.” 

The woman’s eyes were glittering with leashed anger.

 “Your Daniel will come to no harm,” she bit out. “He is with the eldest of the Guardians.”

Her eyes narrowed and her voice deepened, rough with resentment. “And they are _not_ statues, Colonel. _Far_ from that.” 

“Make it bring him back,” Jack demanded, drilling holes in her with his eyes. “Right _now_.” 

“I cannot.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “He needs to be with them. They will help him.” 

Jack came closer, bending down into her face, mad as hell that she wasn’t even trying to appear cooperative. “The only way they can _help_ him is to get those things out of him, and you told me they can’t do that without a fight. So how, exactly, are they _helping_ him?” 

“The elder is taking him far away, where he will not feel the need to protect others as strongly. They understand that he is fragile, and they have no wish to harm him.  They will see that he eats and rests, and they will help him become centered for his coming battle.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down, giving as good as she got. 

That news made Jack feel a little better, though not completely relieving his anxiety.

The Guardians were keeping Daniel clear of his compulsion to do battle, saving his strength for when he’d need it most.

Jack let out a sigh of relief and started to relax. “You really trust them?” he asked quietly. 

Esme also relaxed and clasped her hands behind her back. “I do, Colonel O’Neill. We have come to depend on them for unlike human peacekeepers, they cannot be corrupted. They act only when necessary to protect others. They have no ego to satisfy, you see.”

She smiled, quiet admiration slowly lighting up her face as she talked.

“They have no concept of self and make no distinctions among them. To speak to one is to speak to all. They do not even have names. Can you imagine that, Colonel? To live so completely for the good of others that you have no desires of your own?” 

That was a pretty humbling concept. “No, I don’t think I can.” 

“We have had generations to try to understand their virtue and still it eludes us.” She nodded toward the street, and he fell into step beside her, watching the traffic, waiting for the proper moment to cross. “We know that we are better people for having them among us and hope that one day we may come to be more like them.” 

Jack glanced down at the pendant winking in the pale illumination from the streetlights.

That she trusted them was a good thing, but Jack held onto his suspicion, only slightly comforted by her confidence in the alien creatures.

When he saw Daniel back in one piece, he’d feel better.

Until then, he simply kept his opinions to himself.  

As he rejoined his other teammates and headed back into the Watchtower, he cast an anxious eye into the sky.

Once inside, they waited together for Doctors Lee and Fraiser to rejoin them.

* * *

Janet looked positively stunned when she sat down at the table a few hours later.

Carter prepared a plate of food for her, but Fraiser didn’t touch it at first, just staring down at the sandwich, cheese chunks and fruit.

Bill Lee skipped the food completely, pouring himself a glass of juice with shaky hands and moving to the balcony to look upward, watching the sky. 

“What’s the most basic question a scientist asks when trying to classify a new discovery?” Janet asked. 

Carter sat down across from her and pushed the plate a little closer to her friend. “Animal, vegetable or mineral?” 

Fraiser nodded. “Well, lady and gentlemen, it seems the Guardians are all three.” She stared unseeing at the food. Finally, mechanically, she snatched up a half sandwich, chowing down on it instantly, staring off into space. 

“What? That’s impossible,” Sam countered. 

With a shake of her head, Janet swallowed her half-chewed mouthful. “You should know by now that rules of Earth do not apply to the entire universe, Sam. It’s hard to believe, but these are beings that are as much plant and animal as _rock_. I could spend a lifetime studying them and barely scratch the surface.” 

“So how do we keep Daniel safe from these things?” Jack demanded quietly, reaching for a piece of ham-like meat dangling out of the other half of her sandwich. 

Janet slapped his hand, barely blinking at his intrusion on her dinner. “I have no idea. They have skin thicker than an elephant’s and imbued with granules of crystal that makes it really hard to cut. Daniel could punch and kick one all day and wouldn’t hurt it. It would be like beating a brick wall.” 

“Vulnerable spots?” he suggested, successfully snatching a tiny chunk of cheese from the little pile beside her sandwich. 

She swatted at him again. “They don’t have a circulatory system like we do; more like that of trees, porous tissues that allow nutrients to pass from one organ to another. Their bones are almost as dense as stone, and their claws are like shards of obsidian. Talk about your _perfect_ warrior. Wow!”

She took another bite of her sandwich and glared dangerously at Jack as his hand moved in for another snack run. 

He thought better of stealing from her plate and went to fetch another one for himself. “So is there anything Daniel can do to keep this thing from killing him?” 

“Hope he gets a nice one?” Janet sighed and stared down at her plate and shook her head hopelessly. “If the Guardian he fights just knocks him out with one punch, that might be all it takes.” She frowned. “Then again, if it doesn’t know just how hard to hit him, he could suffer some serious brain damage or—“ 

“Oy, more doom and gloom.” Jack set his plate down on the serving table, his appetite suddenly MIA. “There’s just no way to predict what’s gonna happen, is there? We just have to hold our breaths and hope it turns out okay.”

He went to the balcony to stand beside Bill Lee, staring out at the night and wondering where Daniel was, if he were all right.

As long as his friend was safe, Jack could deal with the war going on inside himself. 

He felt like he’d let Daniel down somehow.

Glancing back over his shoulder at Janet as she picked at her food, he knew there was a lot of that going around.

One by one, he met his teammates’ eyes and saw that they were all just as worried that they would lose Daniel one last time and have to stand by and watch it happen without lifting a finger to help. 

Jack turned back to the starry night sky and swallowed the lump of fear and frustration in his throat, not wanting the others to see just how really shaken he was by that thought.

* * *

Daniel couldn’t remember ever having been so cold. The old Guardian kept him gently pressed to its chest, cradled like a child, but it was like hugging a rock. He tried pulling the blanket tighter around him, but the wind currents beating at him during the flight cut through to the bone. He thought the gargoyle’s body might even be inadvertently sapping his body heat, pushing him dangerously close to hypothermia. 

He was getting sleepy, the cold settling into his mind. 

 _Soon. Keep awake, little one._  

The thought coursing through Daniel’s mind was so warm and kind it prodded him gently toward wakefulness.

He thought they might be descending, sensing the ground coming up beneath them. The angle of the elder’s body changed and suddenly its wings beat the air harder and faster. Daniel could feel the slight tremor of impact as the alien’s feet touched down. He expected it to put him down, but was shaking so hard he didn’t think he could walk. 

Still cuddled against the elder’s broad, cold chest, it carried him into the mouth of a cave.

The stone arch passing above them was carved in elegant swirls brushed by the blue light of four tiny moons in the night sky. Inside the cave, the soaring roof had been carved into peaked vaults and a warm amber glow from oil lamps fastened to the walls bade them welcome.

The Guardian’s huge fist struck a wooden door set into an archway, and after a moment it was opened, a fountain of welcome warmth spilling out toward them. 

Daniel gazed over the tops of his fogged glasses, peering down from his living cradle into the face of a very old man dressed in long, shabby brown velvet robes.

The fellow seemed startled by the appearance of this creature at his door, but pulled it open and let them inside without hesitation.

Daniel was deposited gently on the floor in front of the fireplace and stood back, squatting down nearby to watch him. 

 _“Greetings to you, stranger,”_ the old man said with a cheery smile. _“By what name shall I call you?”_  

The language was old, different from the Middle French he knew, but Daniel translated the Rouenese dialect with little trouble.

He simply couldn’t answer. He shrugged helplessly and offered a smile of apology. 

The old man waited for a moment for a response, then looked to the Guardian for an explanation. 

Daniel turned toward the flames, chilled to the bone, unable to stop shivering. 

“He is injured? Mute? Foreign?”  

The Guardian’s eyes narrowed.

It raised one large hand and touched the mark on its chest, then pointed one finger at Daniel.  

Head jerking back as if he’d been slapped, eyes wide with shock, the old man gasped and clenched his fists over his chest. “No! My friend, does he not understand the price he will pay?”

He stared at the Guardian. 

The creature covered its face with its hands, then reached out with one of them and gently caressed Daniel’s hair.

It seemed sad. 

A heavy, sorrowful breath escaped the old man. He bowed deeply to Daniel and straightened slowly.

_“I am Arneau, friend of the Guardians. I offer you the comforts of my humble home for as long as you may live.”_

He moved to his bed, stripped the blankets from it and brought them to his guest, wrapping them around Daniel’s shoulders.

 _“You will need to eat.  My food is humble, but I will happy to bring you some of it,”_ he announced and disappeared into what must be his kitchen. 

Daniel eased closer to the hearth, hands stretched out to catch the heat from the flames. The warmth gradually seeped into him.

By the time he warmed up, the old man had returned with a bowl of thick stew and a chunk of bread and cheese on a plate.

He accepted the food and lifted his face to offer his thanks, but he couldn’t remember how to work his voice. His mouth moved but no sound came out. He glanced helplessly up at his host. 

 _“You need not thank me_ ,” Arneau said warmly, patting his shoulder. _“You cannot speak, I know. It is part of what illuminatus does in our bodies. They begin to change us, as they do the séréf, to make them into Guardians.” _

He bowed toward the Guardian _. “Only they are far stronger than we. Our bodies cannot tolerate hosting the illuminatus for long, as I am sure you realize by now.”_ 

Daniel nodded. Hunger reminded him that he had food in his grasp, and he began to shovel it in as fast as he could chew and swallow. It tasted good and warmed him on the inside as the fire heated him outside. He sighed when he finished, rose and carried the bowl back to his host, offering a bow of thanks. 

Arneau had been sitting in a rocking chair, watching him eat.

 _“Would you like more?”_ he asked politely as he took the bowl. _“I have plenty, if you wish.”_  

Daniel shook his head, satisfied and content for the moment.

He dipped his head, hands fluttering in the air, trying to find a signal that the old man might understand to offer his gratitude. He tried the American Sign Language gesture, then shook his head, certain Arneau would not understand. 

 _“You are welcome,”_ said his host with a mirthful twinkle in his eyes, taking a guess at the meaning of the gesture. _“Come, sit by the fire, young one. I will remember the old days, and you will listen politely.”_ He chuckled. 

Daniel managed a little smile. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know about what was happening to him, about where he was, who this man was and his connection to the Guardians. He could think clearly again, the images that had tortured him now little more than distant whispers. As he settled down on the hearth, he drew his blanket around himself, and pulled one from the pile by the hearth to lay across his host’s lap. 

 _“You are a thoughtful young man,”_ Arneau observed with approval. _“No wonder you have caught the Guardians’ attention.”_

He turned to make eye contact with the elder. “ _May I get you anything, old friend?”_  

The gargoyle slowly shook its head. Its eyes closed, and it grew very still. 

 _“All right, then. Rest and listen to the Others.”_ Arneau gazed fondly at the creature, but when he spoke again, it was to his human guest. _“Beautiful, is it not?”_  

Daniel studied the giant alien, its rough features, the lines of its face, the radiance he saw pouring out from it. There was a stately presence about it, an air of great dignity that he found compelling. Though its skin seemed rough and pitted and felt cold and grainy, it had been incredibly gentle with him.  

What moved him most, however, were the gossamer brushes of the Guardians’ righteous minds against his own.

That was an experience he’d never be able to describe to anyone. He felt humbled by the depth of their goodness and purity. 

He nodded to the old man.

Yes, the Guardian was beautiful and also unique, transcending its outward appearance.  It was ugly to human eyes, but its inner beauty radiated in blinding glory.

The Guardians were the most beautiful spirits Daniel had ever encountered.

He was in awe of them. 

 _“It will not be easy, what you must do,”_ Arneau said gravely, his gaze now firmly fixed on his guest’s face. _“In all of our shared history, only once has the transfer been done successfully.”_

He paused, his brown eyes filled with sorrow. _“Other human beings once sought out the illuminatus in the vain hopes of attaining glory or revenge. They were driven mad by it or killed in the battle meant to free them. Those who could not rid themselves of the illuminatus… died.”_ 

The odds didn’t sound good. Daniel still wasn’t sure exactly what was expected of him. His mind had been so cluttered when his friends were discussing his situation that he hadn’t gotten all the details.  

_“You are wondering how I know about all this, yes?”_

Daniel nodded. 

The old man’s hands moved to the collar of his robe. He began to unfasten the knotted buttons down the front, talking quietly as he opened up his clothes.

 _“I was an historian, long ago, when I was young like you.”_ He smiled. _“I sought out knowledge in many places, everywhere on my world...”_ He glanced at the sleeping gargoyle and smiled wistfully _. “…and on theirs. I journeyed to the arena to document the battle between two séréf, but both of them were badly injured. I helped the winner into the grotto and was taken by the illuminatus in error, because I was the stronger at that moment.”_ 

Arneau’s gnarled hands parted the plackets of his robe, revealing his drooping chest covered in a forest of white curls. Beneath the hair, right over his heart, was a thick red scar in the shape of an eye standing on end. After a moment, he closed the robe and began to button it up again. 

Daniel stared, hope rising up within him. Arneau had once been where he was now and lived to tell the tale. 

 _“No one knows this, my young friend, save for the Guardians and me.”_ He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. _“When I returned, I was none the wiser, believing that the young séréf had received the gift. It died without ever leaving its world, as did the challenger.”_ 

The old man rose, wrapping his blanket around his shoulders, and shuffled toward a small bookcase mounted against the rock wall. 

_“It was many nights later that I realized I could hear the Guardians. By then I was already on the streets of my city, seeking out evil and doing battle to save innocent lives. That was where the elder found me. It watched me fight, and when the skirmish was over, it counseled me, told me what had happened and what must be done, if I wished to live. What it could not tell me was how to survive the battle. They cannot think in so devious a manner, to cheat death and yet lose a fight.”_

He smiled, a touch of pride in his eyes fading into sadness. _“That is a human trait, I fear.”_  

He pulled out a leather-bound book, gazed at it fondly for a moment, then shuffled back to his chair. _“This is my journal, boy. It will tell you how to lose and, in doing so, win the fight of your life.”_

He handed the book to his visitor with a heavy sigh. _“Perhaps that is why the elder brought you here.”_ Arneau turned to the Guardian and saw that its dark eyes were now open, regarding them both. 

Daniel imagined he saw the creature smile. 

 _“It wishes you to live,”_ Arneau declared. _“You must be very special, indeed.”_

He patted Daniel on the shoulder. _“Study well, young one. I am old and need my sleep.”_

Slowly he rose and started toward his bed.  

Daniel gathered up the rest of the covers by the hearth and hurried ahead, laying them out on the bed and turning down the covers by the time the old man got there.  

 _“Thank you for your kindness,”_ said Arneau warmly, patting his cheek _. “Your mother must be very proud of you.”_

A lump rose up instantly in Daniel’s throat. He glanced away, waiting until the old man had gotten under the covers before spreading the last blanket on top.

 _If she were alive,_ Daniel imagined, _she would be proud of the man he’d become._  

The young man retreated to the rocking chair, picking up his blanket and wrapping it around himself as he sat down.

He took the journal and scanned the pages, looking for familiar words that might tip him off to the proper starting point.  

Fortunately, like many archaeologists, the historian was fond of drawing small pictures to illustrate specific passages and discoveries. Once Daniel found the account of the battle of the doomed _séréf_ , he set to work deciphering and translating the story. He was so absorbed in the tale he didn’t hear the elder when it called. 

The Guardian rose, the sound of its motion drawing Daniel’s attention.

He realized several hours must have passed while he was studying; quite possibly most of the night had gone without his notice. 

 _We must return._  

 _I’m not finished yet! Just a little more time, please?_ Daniel clutched the book until his fingertips turned white. 

 _You have learned the secrets. Hold them close, or we will see. We must go, before the sunrise._  

With a sigh, Daniel closed the journal and left it lying on the chair.

Glancing at the sleeping man, he wished he could thank him for his help and kindness but didn’t want to wake him.

Daniel gathered his blanket around himself and led the way out of the cave to the spot where they had landed hours earlier. He was tired, but not as exhausted as he’d been just a day earlier. A night of peace had done wonders for him. 

The Guardian squatted down, and Daniel stepped up on its bent thigh, hooked one arm around the elder’s neck, and it embraced him, holding him close to its body. With one mighty leap, it was sky-bound, its arms closed around him just tightly enough to keep him safe.

He was freezing again by the time they returned to the city and the domed building that housed the Rouenese Stargate.  

The rest of his teammates, along with Bill and Janet and the Watch Commander, were waiting for them there. 

Jack looked worried, but relieved to see him again. “Daniel, you okay?” 

He tried to nod as the elder set him on his feet, but all he could do was shake.

The visions had started again well before they arrived at the city, and Daniel wanted desperately to answer the call to arms.

He turned, seeking the nearest exit, but the Guardian blocked his path. 

 _You must not go, little one._  

 _I must!_ Daniel pleaded, gazing up into the elder’s eyes, teeth chattering from cold and face contorted with need. 

There was murder in the Colonel’s eyes as he turned his anger on the elder, uncertain what was wrong with his younger friend but obviously ready to blame the Guardian.

Daniel stepped between them, stumbling against Jack and drawing his attention away from the Guardian.

Jack’s arms went around his shoulders and steadied him, helping keep him on his feet. 

“Jeez, you’re like ice!” he growled unhappily. He barked an order for some blankets or a heater to warm Daniel up and gestured to the rest of the team to gather around him.

They pressed themselves against him, sharing their body heat, and in a few minutes the chill had broken enough that he could stay upright on his own. 

He wanted to thank them, but contented himself with a smile, meeting their eyes one by one, giving each a pat or squeeze.

They were his family, and he loved them.

He hoped they knew that. 

Esme returned with a small box in her hands and a bag dangling from one wrist. She handed the box to Jack, who opened it and ducked back from a cloud of steam. Inside was a small, thin blanket, heat rising up from its surface.

“We could use these in our packs,” he observed as he wrapped it around his friend.

Daniel sighed blissfully at the warmth soaking into his body. 

 “Once you have warmed sufficiently, we will journey to the arena on the _séréf_ homeworld to await the arrival of the challenger,” Esme declared.  

“I thought all of them were on your planet now?” Jack eyed the elder Guardian suspiciously. 

Esme shook her head. “Only those who have joined with the _illuminatus_. Those who have not remain on their homeworld to live quietly. When a Guardian on my world dies, the _illuminatus_ return to their homeworld to choose a replacement.” 

“So these _séréf_ will meet us there?” asked Carter. 

“They do not live close to the arena and must wait until nightfall before they travel,” explained Esme. “Many may come to watch. We have a little time before the match begins, but it will be more comfortable for your friend if we go now. Already he hears the call, and it is not yet time for the sunrise. If we stay…” She eyed Daniel with a sympathetic gaze. “He will be weakened. Better to go now, before he is overcome with the need to help.” 

Daniel nodded in confirmation, shuddering as the summons to act intensified. 

The group hurried to the Stargate, the members of SG-1 bodily moving their linguist toward the Rouenese Stargate.

The Watch Commander dialed the Guardian homeworld and SG-1, Doctors Fraiser and Lee, and the elder Guardian followed her into the wormhole.  

Instantly upon their arrival, Daniel relaxed, the silence and peace filling him up. He smiled, enjoying his companions’ light conversation as they walked toward the nearby arena, choosing ringside seats right in the middle of the first row of stone benches.

The sun had just set, only a narrow band of color on the horizon providing them enough light to find their way. 

Esme reached for her bracelet and turned a large onyx cabochon around.

From all around the rear of the arena, white balloons glowing with soft light rose up, illuminating the scene as brightly as daylight.

 “The lights are for our benefit, that we may witness the battle. The _séréf_ see well in total darkness.” She nodded toward Daniel. “As does your friend.” 

“Sir, I’ve _got_ to check into some of their technology,” Sam insisted enthusiastically. 

“When we get back,” Jack answered absently, staring at the lighted balloons.

He turned his attention to the man sitting quietly beside him. “I never thought I’d miss hearing you talk, Daniel… but I do.” 

Daniel smiled at him, understanding the unspoken unease behind Jack’s statement.

He wanted to reassure his friend but there wasn’t any way to do that, because he didn’t know if he’d be walking out of the arena or carried out to be buried back on Earth. 

Relishing the internal quiet, Daniel thought this might be a place where he could live with the _illuminatus_ in his system, if he had the bad luck to triumph over his opponent and survived. He wanted to be free of their influence, but combat with something that could easily squash him like a bug wasn’t a very pleasant way to go about enticing them to leave.

He wondered if simply walking up to one of the _séréf_ ought to be able to do the trick, but apparently the _illuminatus_ needed more concrete proof that the _séréf_ was a superior warrior. He was also afraid of hurting the alien, because he _did_ know a thing or two about battle now, how to hurt, maim and kill.

He’d learned that from Jack and hard experience in the field and knew he wouldn’t be holding back during the forthcoming fight. 

He wondered how much longer they’d have to wait. 

Jack stood up and looked down at him. “Hey, wanna go through a few moves, maybe? Warm up a little?” 

Daniel glanced up into his worried eyes, thinking for a second, and nodded.

He stood up and let his blanket drop off his shoulders, leaving it behind on the stone seat. He glanced down at his hospital scrubs, wishing he had something more appropriate to wear, but the extra clothes they’d brought for him were back in the Watchtower on Rouen.  

Jack lifted off his P-90 and set it down by Carter’s feet, then took off his vest and BDU jacket and laid them aside, leading the way out into the arena. 

When they arrived at the middle of the open space, Jack pulled Daniel close and spoke softly in his ear. “The Watch Commander told us the Guardians are all linked, sort of a single mind thing. Is it some sort of telepathy?” 

Daniel nodded. Jack’s gaze slid over to the huge alien sitting still as a statue in the stands. “Can you get rid of the Guardian? I’d like to show you a couple of new things that might help and don’t want it watching.” 

Daniel hadn’t thought about the journal and what he’d read, didn’t want to have that floating about in his mind for the challenger to know. However, he wasn’t sure that using the same technique twice would work. If the _séréf_ he fought had been witness to that previous battle, it would already know what Arneau had done and most likely have figured a strategy to avoid the same outcome. Daniel needed something new, something that hadn’t been seen or tried yet.

Apparently Jack was thinking the same thing. 

Daniel held up a finger, indicating for Jack to wait. Aiming his thoughts to the elder, sitting just behind the rest of the Tau’ri, Daniel said, _Thank you for all that you have done for me, friend._

_You are welcome._

_Have you sensed my thoughts?_ Daniel turned to look across the arena into those fathomless black eyes. 

 _Only your disquiet and uncertainty. You are concerned for your challenger and do not wish to hurt us._ The gargoyle inclined its head. _We honor you for this._  

 _I am called Daniel, old one._ He hesitated. _I must ask you to go for a little while. You may return when the others come._  

Without warning the gargoyle sprang up into the air and flew off. 

Daniel started stretching while Jack did some calisthenics to warm up.

The movements hurt, reminding him of his still-healing ribs, but he gritted his teeth and ignored the pain. He couldn’t let that stop him now because his life was on the line.

Battle was the only way to get rid of the _illuminatus_ in his body and get his life back… _if_ he lived through the battle itself. 

“Ready?” Jack asked after a few minutes. 

When Daniel nodded, he went down on his knees to practice the last technique he’d been shown.

Jack moved forward, aiming a fist at Daniel’s head, swinging hard. Daniel caught his arm by the wrist and pulled, swept his other arm across Jack’s chest and leaned forward, promptly dumping Jack on his back.  

O’Neill grimaced and got slowly to his feet.

“Okay, so you remember that one pretty well. I don’t think you’ll be able to use that move on a two-ton living statue. No way sweeps or throws will work on these things. Let’s try some advanced stuff. Since you may get knocked down, I want to show you how to fight from the ground.” 

Jack lay on his back in the dirt. “Okay, attack me like you think these aliens might come at you.” 

Daniel tried to imagine how the _séréf_ might strike from above, how to let it get in close before he moved. Once he had a few ideas, he stepped up to stand next to Jack’s right hip. He leaped up into the air and came down with legs spread, straddling the prone man, reaching down with his right hand to rake across Jack’s chest. 

O’Neill’s fist came up, thumb extended, and dragged across Daniel’s abdomen from the waistband of his scrub pants to his sternum.

He grinned, holding up his thumb and wiggling it. “That was a knife, in case you didn’t get the idea. I’m giving you mine for the fight. They’ve got claws, so you need an equalizer.” 

If Jack’s thumb _had_ been a knife, Daniel would have been split wide open.

He glanced at the knife in the scabbard on Jack’s belt.

The gargoyle had razor-sharp claws. He ought to have the same advantage, and nodded his agreement. 

Daniel tried the same move with Jack attacking him, fumbled through it the first time and missed the crucial timing, but got it on the second and third tries.

He nodded, got up and Jack lay down again, trying several different defensive measures followed up with attacks. Though anything he might do with a short-bladed knife like the ones they carried in the field would do little more than annoy the _séréf_ , a few deep cuts would slow it down and make it move more carefully.

Daniel had no idea how they felt pain – if they felt it at all – but surely if he were lucky and got in a few hits in important places, he could keep it from killing him outright. 

He strolled back to the stands with Jack, who handed over his knife as they walked.

As the older man started to sit down, Daniel tugged him over to stand in front of Janet Fraiser. He glanced at her for a moment, trying to figure out how to ask for the information he needed. She wasn’t telepathic and none of the Tau’ri knew sign language except him, aside from the hand signals they used in combat situations.

Daniel sighed, brow furrowed in thought.  

Holding his left hand palm out, he tried to help Jack understand that Daniel wanted him to keep still. Then, when he saw another nod, Daniel glanced at Janet and carefully directed the knife toward Jack’s body, bringing it carefully up to lay aside his neck, then pointing at his heart with the tip, making a slash over his abdomen without actually touching his body with the blade, marking the most desirable targets with the motion and angle of the blade. 

He turned to Janet, then raised his hands and flapped them at his sides like wings. Then he handed Janet the knife, hilt first, then pointed at himself. 

“Uhhh…” She took it, glancing between him and Jack, not understanding the pantomime. 

“He wants to know where to strike the gargoyle for maximum effect,” Jack explained. “You’ve researched their physiology, so…?” 

“Oh!” Janet stood up and marked Daniel’s neck in the same way he had done with Jack. “They don’t have a circulatory system, per se, and can absorb oxygen through their skin as well as breathing it in through their lungs. A strike to the throat won’t kill one but it will slow it down. If you can cut through the esophagus, that will make it dependent on their secondary oxygen collection system, so the _séréf_ will be sluggish in its movements.” 

Laying her free hand on his chest, she continued. “Same goes for the lungs, same place as ours, but the tissues between are so dense you’ll only be able to penetrate deep enough if you thrust with your whole body weight, upward at an angle, just below the ribs. I’ll warn you, though, if you hit a rib, your blade will shatter like glass.” 

Daniel nodded, feeling a little light-headed at the knowledge being imparted to him.

Doctor Fraiser was very good at her job. Not only did she know how to heal, she’d be deadly in combat because she knew every vulnerability and how to exploit it. Those were two sides of the same coin. 

“If you can get to its back, there’s a tendon-like anchor on the underside of where the wing is attached to the body. If you can cut that, it won’t be able to fly.” 

That had been part of Arneau’s strategy that Daniel had read in the old man’s journal. Arneau had clung to the _séréf’s_ back and disabled it with cuts to the wing and throat. The wily _séréf_ had simply fallen backward, trapping his body under it until he had passed out. In that unconscious state the _illuminatus_ had left him and had gone into the Guardian, allowing Arneau to return to the average man he had been prior to becoming their host.  

Janet pointed out a multitude of targets, describing exactly how to attack them and what damage such a wound would do. When she finished, she handed the knife back to him and stepped back, resuming her seat on the stone bench.

She looked worried. “Did you get all that, Daniel?” 

He smiled and turned to Jack, who was still standing beside him. Very quickly, he made slashing and stabbing motions to illustrate the techniques she had described and turned back to her with a wink. 

“Very impressive,” Esme said to them. “You must be a great warrior among your people, Daniel.” 

He snorted and shook his head, then pointed to Jack, Teal’c and Sam.

He felt Jack’s gaze on him and turned to make eye contact. 

Jack hooked his thumbs in his belt and leaned back a little, pride in his eyes. “Yeah. Actually, he is.” 

Daniel met that unwavering gaze and got a little misty for an instant.

It felt good to be acknowledged by a man who Daniel knew measured others by the same yardstick with which he measured himself.

Jack had always held himself to a high standard, and for Daniel to know that he had met Jack’s approval meant a great deal.

_Had he come so far in so short a time?_

Daniel stuck out his hand toward Jack, and they shook hands firmly. 

He turned to head out to the center of the arena to wait. He could feel the massed presence of the _séréfs_ coming closer and knew they would be arriving soon. 

Esme caught at his sleeve. “Daniel, you must change into this costume before you fight. It will stretch to fit you.”

She removed the bag from her wrist and held it out toward him. 

Daniel did a double-take, turning a shocked face to his C.O. 

“Costume?” asked Jack, right on cue. “Y’mean, like Batman?” 

“What he is wearing will not do,” Esme insisted. “What is a batman?” 

That bag looked _awfully_ small. Daniel peered inside it while Jack explained the concept of comic strip superheroes.  

Daniel pulled the costume out, staring at burgundy pants that looked like they would fit a six year old, made of some kind of soft, suede-like material. The equally small tunic had a Mandarin collar decorated with small, flat gold studs and long sleeves that ended in a point. A matching pair of soft suede boots completed the outfit.

If it stretched to fit, it promised to be indecent.  

Daniel would die of embarrassment if he had to wear that.

He thrust the bag back at her and shook his head. 

She raised an eyebrow, reached out and grabbed a fistful of his scrub top, tugging on it gently. “Then you will be very easy to catch.” One finely arched pewter eyebrow lifted in challenge. 

Daniel’s mouth went dry. He swallowed hard and painfully and pulled the teeny costume close in capitulation. He rolled his eyes with a frustrated sigh. 

Jack clapped him on the shoulder with a wry grin, shaking his head. “Only _you_ , Daniel. This stuff _only_ happens to you.” 

Daniel nodded and sighed with resignation.  

He headed off behind the stadium alone, glancing about for a few minutes to make sure there was no one peeking, and set the little bag down. He kept looking around as he stripped off the scrub top and pulled on the burgundy tunic, pulling it way down to cover his butt. He quickly changed into the suede pants and struggled to pull them up his legs, then over his hips, tucking his body into the tight-fitting material until he was fairly confident he wouldn’t embarrass himself too much. He sat down on the ground to pull on the boots, folded up his scrubs and put them in the bag. 

The outfit was warm and surprisingly comfortable, once he got used to it. He glanced down at himself and decided it looked pretty classy, not at all like he’d expected.

A menacing looking gargoyle with flared wings was embroidered across the front of the tunic in the same burgundy color of the material. With no mirror available he couldn’t see whether it showed too much or adequately covered him, but that wasn’t really its purpose.

The material moved with him and kept him warm, so it would be perfect for the battle to come.

Its thickness made him feel covered and the tunic stretched modestly down over his hips.

Even the boots fit perfectly and nothing was restricting, flowing with his every movement like his own skin.

He could see the wisdom of fighting in such an outfit. 

He resettled his glasses on his nose, squared his shoulders, picked up the bag with his hospital clothes and headed back into the arena.

He sat up straight as he took a seat beside his teammates in the near-darkness, lit by a half dozen small moons high up in the sky and those intriguing white balloons all around the back of the arena. 

 _“Niiiiice_ outfit,” Sam breathed appreciatively, her eyes raking him. 

 _“I’ll_ say!” agreed Janet. 

Daniel saw them scrutinizing him and blushed.

He made a dismissive motion with his hand. 

“ _Not_ Batman,” Jack added, shaking his head as he swept his teammate with a dispassionate glance. “I’m thinkin’ more The Flash, but without the yellow lightning bolts or the hood. Which I never liked, anyway. Those wing thingies over his ears made him look goofy.” 

Daniel just glared at him with a shake of his head, unable to reply. 

A sound like sheets flapping in the wind made them look up.

“Show time,” commented Jack softly. 

All around them, _séréf_ were appearing out of the night and settling on the stone benches.  

As Daniel waited patiently with the others, Sam reached over to hand him her knife, along with the scabbard.

He took it and glanced down at his outfit. There was no place to attach it. He started to hand it back, but Jack removed his belt and handed it over, solving the problem. It didn’t go with his outfit, but Daniel didn’t care. He strapped the belt through the scabbard slots and snugly around his waist, tucked the loose end of the belt over and inside, between the belt and tunic, and gave his friends a grateful smile.

Turning the knife in his hand to a reverse position, blade tucked up behind his arm, all but out of sight, he was as ready as he was going to get. 

“How will we know when the glowy thingies are gone?” Jack asked the Watch Commander, leaning past Daniel to catch her eye. He turned his black baseball cap around on his head in preparation for the event to come. 

“Ah! I almost forgot. Thank you for the reminder.” Esme reached into a deep pocket in her long velvet skirt and produced several curved silver strips of metal with a hook on one end and what looked like a cobalt blue glass lens on the other.

She handed them out to the Tau’ri who would be watching and put the last one on herself, looping the hook over her left ear and shifting the lens so that it sat just in front of her eye. “With this device, you will see what the _séréf_ see, as with the images in our meeting room. The _illuminati_ will be visible the moment they leave your Daniel’s body.” 

Daniel reached for Jack’s eyepiece.

They tussled over it a little, and Jack finally let it go.

Daniel held it up in front of his glasses, then took off his glasses and tried it without the corrective lenses between himself and the device.

He studied everyone for a moment, frowned when he didn’t see anything different, and handed it back. 

“You can’t see the fireflies in yourself anyway,” O’Neill told him, tapping his temple with one fingertip. “They aren’t in your lap, you know.”  

Daniel shrugged and sighed, wishing he could engage in their usual banter. 

“We will show you recordings,” Esme offered congenially. She hesitated, her face growing serious. “If you survive.” 

Suddenly Daniel didn’t care about _séréf_ vision. 

A resounding thump from the center of the arena announced that his opponent had landed. It was small compared to many of the others he’d seen, but still somewhere in the neighborhood of seven feet tall. Its skin was pale gray, making its eyes appear even darker, and it radiated with a peaceful pale blue glow. Behind it a short, thick tail just touched the ground, where most of the others Daniel had seen had much longer ones.

This one, Daniel guessed, must have been quite young, not yet fully grown.

Around its waist was a wide belt of what looked like pure gold, but no other clothing.  

The _séréf_ waited, still as a statue, for him to come to it. 

Daniel glanced up in the stands, searching for the elder Guardian, but it wasn’t there. 

“You are not ready?” asked the challenger aloud, its voice the sound of a multitude, as if it spoke for all of those of its kind who had come to watch. 

The sound of wings above Daniel’s head made him look up.

The old Guardian settled lightly into place behind the humans, and Daniel gave it a smile and a nod. Those dark eyes closed briefly and the elder inclined its head. 

 _I am ready now,_ Daniel answered, leaving the stands for the arena. He marched across the open space, his breath making steamy clouds in the air. When he stopped, he was within touching distance.

Up close, it was huge and damned intimidating. _Can you hear me?_  

It looked at him without emotion and gave him a regal nod. “We do not wish to kill you, little one.” 

He swallowed hard and tried to smile, despite the lump in his throat. _Nor do I wish to kill you, my friend._ Carefully, slowly, he reached out with his free hand and touched its face, radiant and brightly burning without heat.

_You are beautiful._

“As are you.” It stroked a knuckle across his cheek and backed away. “So it begins.” 

It leaped up into the air, flapping its wings and stirring up dust all around him. 

Daniel shut out his fear, his mind now attuned to the battle at hand. It fluttered down toward him, then suddenly dropped to its feet and whirled around, striking at him with its tail. Daniel leaped straight up, the tail sweeping harmlessly beneath him.

As he landed, he launched himself forward, closing the distance between them. He ducked beneath a clawed hand and brought his blade upward as he danced quickly away, out of range, looking back to assess the damage he’d done. 

The alien was slower than he was, and that would work in Daniel’s favor. Just as it was turning to face him, he darted in for another quick slash to its abdomen. It caught him with its forearm, a glancing blow impacting against his back and sending him stumbling away.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, struggling to keep his wits about him as he turned to face his opponent, pain tingeing everything slightly pink. 

He sucked in a wheezing breath and sneezed from the dust, ducking just in time to avoid the alien’s fist swinging at his head. As he dashed behind it, he swiped his blade across its exposed side. Daniel was much quicker and used that speed to his advantage, darting in and out, slashing its body every time he got in close. When it punched at him, he dodged the strike or spun away so that every contact was never more than a brush of one powerful limb against his body. 

Backing away several steps, he panted to try to catch his breath.

Five minutes into the battle, he was already flagging.

His long period with little rest and his recent injury were taking their toll.

The _séréf_ was still fresh and could go on like this for hours, despite the little nicks in its thick skin, which were steadily weeping a clear, yellowish fluid that served as blood. 

Daniel knew he was going to have to take a chance, make some risky moves to try to get in close enough to do some real damage. If he took too long, he’d waste what energy he had and his limbs would eventually cease to obey his mind, leaving him vulnerable to his opponent, and that vulnerability might just get him killed.

If his opponent landed even a _single_ solid blow against his body, his bones would break.

The Guardian wasn’t using its claws yet, doing its best to spare him, but if he annoyed it with too many little stings from his blade, it would undoubtedly start using them. 

He decided to stop running and let it come to him.

Knees bent, hands in ready position, he waited.

The alien cocked its huge head, listening to his thoughts, seeking them out, but he kept his mind blank, letting it make the first move. 

It flung itself at him, fist first, in a full body lunge.

He saw that giant hand coming straight for his head and at the last moment, dropped down to the ground, landing on his ass. Daniel rounded his back and brought his legs up to provide momentum for a backward shoulder roll. Legs tucked in tightly to his chest, as his right shoulder made contact, and his feet were in position to hit the ground next.  He straightened and pivoted, marking the _séréf’s_ position just a few feet away to his right, then leaped onto its back and sliced quickly under the attachment of its right wing. Almost by instinct, he sank his blade into the base of its neck. 

The creature flipped and flung him off, rising to its feet and reaching over its shoulder for the knife still embedded in its flesh. Its chest was heaving now, obviously in pain. It couldn’t reach the knife, so it just left it there, turning to locate its opponent with gleaming eyes. 

Daniel scrabbled backward on hands and knees, putting some distance between them until he could get to his feet. 

“Go, Daniel!” shouted Jack, echoed briefly by the voices of the others, who quickly fell silent to keep from distracting the combatants. 

Daniel couldn’t look away, couldn’t acknowledge their cheering, which sounded far away as his mind screened them out. He concentrated instead on his hands, reaching for the other knife at his side and withdrawing it from its scabbard. 

The _séréf_ hissed in pain and defiance. Its fists uncurled, revealing long, thick fingers tipped with incredibly sharp claws.

The alien advanced on him slowly, cautious and more respectful now, studying him. 

He had made it take him more seriously, he knew. It faced him as a warrior now, no longer as a clumsy irritation to be easily put down. Its black eyes were narrowed, thoughtful, calculating. 

“Well done, little one,” it told him admiringly. 

 _I don’t want to kill you,_ he repeated urgently. _You know I can’t make this easy for you._  

“And I can no longer be gentle with you,” the giant responded, circling him. “You are a worthy opponent.” 

Daniel turned to keep it in front of him, ever watchful, waiting for its next move.

It rushed him, and as he spun away, its claws ripped across his back, leaving bloody trails of fire in his skin. He sucked in a breath, grimacing, mouth opening in a silent scream, but he was still unable to make a sound.

He had to ignore the white-hot agony of his wounds and concentrate.

Daniel didn’t have much time left and knew it. 

Suddenly he wished he didn’t have an audience, not one made up of everyone who cared about him.

He could sense the anxiety radiating toward him from where his friends sat watching, preparing to possibly watch him die.

Daniel wanted to send them away but couldn’t afford the break in concentration. 

He darted in close and sliced across the _séréf’s_ arm with its next lunge. Then he got it in the thigh with another, dancing away, spinning out of range, dodging and ducking as it came at him relentlessly. His legs were starting to burn from exertion; he was going to have to make his move soon.  

He feinted to bring it in close and succeeded in making a deep cut across its neck.

There was a gush of sticky yellowish fluid, which coated his hand and blade. 

The _séréf_ staggered back, one hand clutching at the wound. It hissed at him again, but the sound withered away to silence before it finished the cry, its mouth still open, lungs empty. The being stood there trying to breathe, its throat clogged with its own fluids, its body drawing on its secondary, and less efficient, source of oxygen. 

They were even now.  

He stole a glance at the audience and saw his friends hoping, praying he would survive, bracing themselves for whatever happened next. His eyes met Jack’s for the briefest instant before he tore his gaze away, returning his full attention to his opponent. He wanted to spare them the sight of his dying again. They had already been hurt enough. 

 _I don’t want to kill you!_ he screamed at it in his mind. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he blinked them away.  

It walked slowly right up to him, an arm’s length away, staring into his eyes. Its hand moved away from its throat and down to its side. Its chest no longer rose and fell with the motion of breathing. Had it been a human being, it would be dead already. 

Daniel backed up a few steps, starting to circle around it, eye to eye, ready for anything. He could see its limbs, the slightest shift of weight as it moved onto one leg. He readied himself for a kick, preparing to duck and slice as the challenger’s leg went over him. 

Only he’d forgotten it had a tail. 

With all its strength, the creature pivoted on its right leg and swung its left out low to provide momentum for the turn. Its tail came up and around, impacting Daniel on his side and knocking him down hard on the ground.

As soon as it finished the turn, the alien leaped up into the air and came down toward him. 

Rolling onto his back, Daniel flipped the knife in his right hand to a forward grip, ready to rip its belly open. 

The _séréf’s_ right foot came down first, shattering Daniel’s left thigh and, along with it, his concentration, for a fraction of a second.

Breath hissed out of Daniel in a desperate, silent scream, agony paralyzing him. He saw its right hand coming toward his head, fingers folded into a fist, and reacted instinctively with one of Jack’s new tricks. Catching its arm at just the right place near the elbow, he gave it a little push, just enough force to guide that deadly fist past his face and into the ground beside his head.  

Dust puffed up in a small cloud, choking him.

 An instant later, the _séréf’s_ left hand closed around his throat and began to squeeze. 

Daniel thrust upward with his knife, seeking a target he couldn’t see, but its body wasn’t in reach.

 Its face, hovering above his, began to darken against the starry sky behind its head.

He jabbed at its arm, thrusting the blade in deep, but the alien yanked its right hand free of the ground and caught his hand, removing his weapon from his grip and flinging it away. 

“No!” Jack shouted. “Daniel!” 

Other familiar voices were screaming his name, the sound fading away like the roar of the ocean in his ears, drowning out everything.  

Darkness filled Daniel’s vision. He closed his eyes and slipped away.

* * *

Watching Daniel go down, Jack’s heart was in his throat as he leapt to his feet.

The Rouenese device over his eye showed the sparkle of the _illuminatus_ exiting the younger man’s body and entering the _séréf,_ but the creature didn’t release its grip immediately.

It looked like it was still choking him, still trying to kill him, even though all resistance had vanished.  

Surely it could see the _illuminatus_ leaving Daniel!

Wasn’t that what this whole ordeal had been about?  

“It’s not letting go!” Jack growled, his voice rising as he got to his feet, shouting at the creature. “Let him _go_ you sonofabitch!” 

Everyone was on their feet now. Teal’c was already two steps into the arena, running toward the creature. Jack aimed his weapon near the combatants and squeezed off a few rounds, shooting up a spray of dirt around the alien to get its attention. 

It let go instantly and straightened, glancing at him over its shoulder, obviously startled by the sudden noise, distracted from its objective. 

Then Jack was running across the arena, passing Teal’c and closing in on their fallen comrade with everyone else on his heels. 

The _séréf_ – now transformed into a new Guardian – gazed at the man lying so still on the ground.

It stepped off Daniel, backing away a few feet, then tilted its head back and put its hand to its ruined throat.

Its eyes closed. 

Jack jumped over Daniel’s body and dropped to his knees beside his teammate’s shoulders. “Daniel!” he called, shaking him.

He tore off the P-90 and dropped it beside him, snatching the alien viewing device off his head and throwing it, his face pale as Doctor Fraiser skidded up to them and dropped to her knees on the other side of Daniel’s body, her equipment bag beside her.

“Doc?” 

Janet went immediately into physician mode.

Jack studied Daniel’s body, noting that his chest no longer rose and fell with breathing. Daniel’s left thigh was dented and compressed, bearing the imprint of that alien footprint on the dark red fabric clinging to his thigh.

The sight sickened Jack, but he couldn’t give up hope.

Not yet. 

Janet pressed her stethoscope to Daniel’s chest, moving the chestpiece around quickly. “No heartbeat. No breath sounds.” She ripped the high collar open, then pressed her fingertips against his throat to check for a pulse and shook her head. 

Jack reached under Daniel’s neck and tipped his head back, then opened his mouth to start CPR. 

“Wait!” Janet called. Her skilled fingers pressed against Daniel’s throat, palpating quickly from just under the jaw to his collarbones to check if his windpipe had been crushed.

“No apparent fractures. Okay, Colonel, you do the chest compressions. I’ll do the breathing. Go.”

She slipped her finger into Daniel’s mouth to check for obstructions and pull his tongue out of the way, then bent down and sealed his mouth with hers, counting off two breaths. 

Jack locked his hands together in the formation he’d been taught and leaned onto Daniel’s chest, starting a count of ten compressions. 

A sound went up around them then, a noise like nothing Jack had ever heard, yet so eerily familiar it sent chills down his spine.

The sheer volume shook the ground, vibrating like a small quake.

It was the most beautiful, terrifying, uplifting chorus Jack had ever heard, leaving him breathless.

For a moment, none of the humans moved except for Janet and Jack, still working in perfect concert, counting ten compressions and two breaths, ten and two, check pulse, then ten and two.  

He glanced around and saw that the entire audience of _séréf_ were raising their voices in a brief, achingly glorious song of tribute and then fell utterly still and silent, like statues all around the arena, all gazing down on them with their solemn, alien faces and glassy obsidian eyes.  

Jack’s heart was thundering in his chest as he concentrated on Daniel, keeping the vital count going, looking around in wonder, shaken to the roots of his soul.

He saw that Teal’c had dropped to one knee nearby, head bowed, one fist pressing against the ground. Carter, too, was wide-eyed and pale, pulling herself together enough to reach up and pull Daniel’s knife free from the new Guardian’s back.

Doctor Lee’s face had gone paper white, and he stood halfway across the arena, just turning in a slow circle and staring at the alien audience, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide behind his glasses. 

Esme Bien wandered up, her green eyes sliding closed in awe, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“They are mourning the loss of one of their own,” she explained. “Never have they paid tribute to a human in this manner.”

She studied the man on the ground in wonder and said nothing more. 

Ten minutes passed.

Janet stopped to check her patient periodically, and Jack continued to talk to Daniel, urging him to fight his way back to them. The Doctor leaned down to blow into Daniel’s mouth again and, after her second breath, the man coughed, sucked in a deep breath and howled in pain, his body curling up as he reached for his crushed leg and fell back against the dirt, whimpering with every shallow breath. 

Janet let out a big sigh of relief. Quickly checking his pulse and respiration, she gave a confirming nod to Jack, who sat back on his heels and waited for instructions.

She leaned over Daniel and spoke quietly to him.

“Try to lie still, Daniel. I know you’re in a lot of pain, and I’ll give you something for that in just a minute. We’re going to take you home. You’re going to be just fine.” 

Daniel’s face was screwed into a grimace of agony.

He managed a small nod to assure her that he’d heard her, and struggled to swallow his cries of pain, still keening in the back of his throat.

His body tensed and wriggled slightly, instinctively trying to find some position of comfort, but there was none.  

“Colonel, find me a stretcher,” she ordered. “We can use his blanket.” She opened her medical bag and pulled out an IV kit while Jack jogged back to the stands to fetch the blanket. 

Janet swabbed a spot on the back of Daniel right hand and slipped the big needle into the vein with expert ease. Tossing packaging left and right, she moved with incredible speed as she taped it down and then hooked up a small bag of lactated ringers’ solution, dangling the bag from a gentle grip between her teeth.

She drew up a dose of morphine and drove it home into the IV port. 

Mercifully, Daniel succumbed to the effects of the drug, his body going limp with a sigh of relief.

“Perhaps you should bring him to our world,” Esme suggested. “We may have medical technology you do not.” 

“After the cool gadgets we’ve seen so far, I’d say odds on that are high,” agreed Sam.  

“Let’s pick up the pace, everyone,” Janet advised brusquely, moving around to Daniel’s other side to slip her hands beneath his damaged thigh.

Teal’c helped Carter spread out the blanket and then the four of them carefully moved his limp body onto the cloth.

Esme grabbed one corner, the three teammates taking the others, and the group moved swiftly out of the arena, headed for the Stargate and Rouen.

* * *

“DAMN Jackson, you know how to make a hell of an entrance, too,” Jack said wearily as he walked beside the wheeled hospital bed on which Daniel reclined, headed for home at last after two days of care under the Rouenese medical staff, with Doctor Fraiser looking on and learning.

O’Neill glanced at Carter. “I guess this counts as life number seven, huh?” 

Sam smiled down at her injured teammate. “That leaves you with two more, pussycat. It’s a good thing I had Siler take extra pictures of you, Daniel. Looks like you get another photo up on your wall.” 

“Do we have to?” groaned Daniel.  

“Since I didn’t officially declare you dead, maybe we can skip it,” Janet teased with a smile. She turned to Sam, who walked on the right side of the bed, pushing it along toward the Rouenese Stargate dome. “What do you think, Sam?” 

She shrugged, still grinning. “The _séréf_ honored you as one of their heroic dead. I’m thinking it _counts_.” Her eyes grew haunted for a moment as she remembered that chorus on the battlefield. “That song they sang was something… _incredible_ , Daniel. Wish you could’ve heard it.” 

He didn’t want to tell her that he _had_ heard it, floating above his body, looking down at them as they worked on him.

There was a lot about this particular adventure that would require contemplation on his part, lots of sorting out.

Some things, however, were startlingly clear in a way they hadn’t been before going to the _séréf_ homeworld.

He smiled softly to himself. 

He barely heard Janet rescue her friend with a swift change of subject. 

“That biologic fragment transporter was the most amazing device I’ve ever seen! We located every little tiny piece of shattered bone in Daniel’s leg, zapped it back to its rightful place and sealed everything up nice and neat in an internal biodegradable packaging that will hold the bone in place till it knits back together. No cast necessary. _Amazing!”_  

She started to get really graphic with the details of his recent repair, and Daniel chose to shut it out to keep his stomach from protesting. Still, he was grateful for the lack of postoperative pain.

He wished he had more time to study Rouen, but he knew he needed to get home to finish his recovery.

Thanks to these people, he’d be walking normally again in a few weeks, and a few more weeks after that he’d be back in the field.  

Daniel was aware of what the technology of this place had done for him. Had that injury happened on Earth, he’d have lost his leg. The bone had been too shattered to repair by conventional means, but the Rouenese put his Humpty Dumpty back together again with ease.

Everyone was excited about potential trade with their new friends, but Daniel felt he had not yet done his part in earning this alliance. 

He’d brought the two worlds together, after a fashion, but only by unfortunate accident. He had slept through most of his time there after the return trip from the _séréf_ homeworld, and he wanted to come back again when he could be useful in diplomatic relations.

It was a beautiful place, and he wanted to see more of it. 

There was also one person in particular he wanted to get to know, but he didn’t have a clue how to find the old man without the Guardians’ help. 

He smiled as he thought about the time he’d spent there. Though he’d had only had a few hours with Arneau, his journal had left Daniel with a great many questions about the old man and his relationship with the Guardians. There was so much he wanted to know, and since Arneau was also an historian, he’d be the perfect man to ask. Daniel was fascinated by what they had in common and wanted to take a great deal of time discussing things with the man. Arneau could tell him much, could help him piece together the many and varied Earth legends that spawned the mythos of creatures like these.

Most of all, he wanted to learn more about the Guardians, the _illuminatus_ and the _séréf_.

That, he knew, could be a lifetime study, but he couldn’t devote the rest of his existence to the subject, no matter how tempting the idea might be.  

He remembered the Egyptian griffins, also called _séréf_ , who were the guardians of graves at Beni-Hassan, and the ancient Hebrew texts that described the “burning ones,” fairly certain that these were one and the same. The Biblical prophet Daniel had had an experience with similar beings, and Jackson promised himself to look up that barely remembered passage to begin his research once he returned home.  

This adventure had been an experience in not judging a book by its cover, for what human eyes saw on the outside of these creatures was a vast misconception. Perhaps human eyes simply couldn’t translate all the data and misinterpreted the image in the brain… but Daniel had seen what they were beneath the surface.

He had seen through their eyes and been forever changed by it. 

His experience with the Guardians was a gift he would treasure forever. The people who lived with them honored and respected them, but the Roeunese didn’t really know them at all. Even the Watch Commander, the human being given the privilege of a mental connection with the aliens, barely scratched the surface of who and what they really were. 

Daniel knew. He closed his eyes and remembered how the world looked when he was connected to them. Everything was made of light. Life was everywhere, glowing and sacred and beautiful. The creatures that looked so misshapen and ugly to human eyes were not that at all, when one could truly _see_ them. 

He felt his eyes fill and opened them.

The group was just arriving in the early morning sunshine at the big domed building that housed the Rouenese Stargate, when they heard a sound and stopped walking.

Heads turned upward in response to a noise not unlike the billowing of a huge sail in a strong wind.

Esme drew in a startled breath. 

The elder Guardian flew in, gliding to a heavy stop that made the ground shake.

He stood very still for a moment, breathing hard. 

Daniel understood now what it cost the Guardians to move around in the daytime. It was exceedingly painful and was accomplished only by an act of deep concentration and iron will.

He sat up in the bed, his attention focused on the elder, whose mental voice he could no longer hear. 

The Guardian stepped closer, one slow, thundering footfall followed by another, until it stood beside the bed, eyes only for Daniel. 

Jack eased up beside the bed, trying to wedge himself between the alien and his friend.

Sam put a hand protectively on Daniel’s shoulder.

Teal’c straightened up and took a step closer to the foot of the bed.

His team was on guard, protecting him, and that made Daniel smile. 

“It’s okay. The Guardian won’t hurt me,” Daniel assured Jack, patting his arm and trying to push him out of the way. 

O’Neill begrudgingly moved aside about an inch but stayed close, brows knitted in suspicion, eyes glaring a warning. 

Slowly the elder reached up and touched Daniel’s face, caressing his cheek with a knuckle.

Then its finger uncurled and it reached down to the collar of the hospital scrubs he was wearing and gave a gentle tug on the cloth.

Daniel cocked his head, trying to figure out what the Guardian wanted. 

The creature brought its other hand to its chest, drawing Daniel’s gaze there. 

“Oh!” he said, remembering Arneau’s secret. This wasn’t something he particularly wanted, but it was a great honor being offered him. After what he’d been through the past month, it would certainly be doable. He looked up at his friends, protectively surrounding his bed. “You guys wanna give us some space? Um, the elder wishes to accord me a personal honor. I don’t know why, because I haven’t earned it, but I won’t refuse this.” 

Jack didn’t taking his eyes off the Guardian. “You sure, Daniel?” 

“I’m sure, Jack. Just go on inside and give us a few minutes. Don’t look out, either. This is private.” 

O’Neill shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his frown intensifying. He shifted his gaze to his teammate’s face instead, his voice betraying his uncertainty and a note of warning. “Daniel—“ 

“Just trust me on this.” 

“So help me, if I come out and you’re bleeding…“ 

Daniel grimaced. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to make them leave if they knew the truth, and he couldn’t lie to them and have Jack go ballistic later. “Um, I probably will be but it won’t be serious.” 

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he regarded Daniel and thought about what he’d just admitted. Arms crossed firmly over Jack’s chest. “Forget it. I am _so_ not going anywhere, now.” 

“Me, neither,” Janet seconded. 

“Ditto,” said Sam. 

Teal’c lifted an eyebrow. 

“Okay, me, too,” said Bill Lee. 

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud!” Daniel griped. He sat up with a frustrated sigh and grasped the hem of his scrubs shirt, pulling it off over his head. He balled it up and held it against his abdomen, then leaned back against the bed and gave the elder a nod. Holding his breath and clenching his teeth, he watched as the Guardian reached out with one razor-sharp claw and began to carve the upright eye into Daniel’s chest, right over his heart.

“Daniel!” Jack was in full Colonel mode.

“Don’t!” Daniel snapped. “It’s a _medal_ , Jack.” 

The wadded up shirt caught the trickles of blood that ran down his body.

When the elder was finished Daniel exhaled forcefully and pressed the shirt against the wound.

“Thank you. I think,” he ground out. Dragging his pained gaze up to the alien’s face, he saw the creature blink slowly and incline its great head.

It gently grazed Daniel’s cheek once again with a bent knuckle, offered a slight bow of respect, then stepped aside to let the caravan enter the domed building. 

“Oh, _that_ wasn’t fun,” observed Daniel, pulling the shirt away to look at the oozing wound. 

“Want stitches, or would you rather have the nice big scar?” asked Janet with a teasing smile. 

“I’m pretty sure a scar is the point of the exercise,” Daniel moaned, glancing beneath the shirt at his bloody chest. 

Jack just shook his head and chuckled as they strolled toward the Stargate and home. “Only you, Daniel. Only you.” 

Esme Bien touched Daniel’s shoulder, as they arrived into the central room. “I have never known the Guardians to treat a human as one of their own, Daniel, but they do this with you. They honored you as a fallen warrior with their song of grief. They now give you their mark. I do not understand. They barely knew you, yet I who am their chosen one among my people am not so close to them. Please, can you tell me why?” 

Daniel stared at her, at the hurt and confusion in her eyes. “I think it’s because you’ve never really _seen_ them, Madame Bien,” he replied gently. “When you can see them with your heart and not your eyes, maybe then you’ll understand.” 

Her eyes filled. She gave him a disappointed little smile and nodded. “I begin to see now why you are so special to them, Daniel. You are wise beyond your years.”

She eyed at Jack and her emotions cooled instantly, once more the Watch Commander.

“I wish you a safe journey home and look forward to more talks with your people.” 

Sam reached out and shook her hand. “So do we, Madame Bien. Thank you for all your people have done for us.” She glanced at Daniel and smiled broadly. “We do like to keep him with us, you know.” 

“Even though he can be a pain in the ass,” Jack seconded, eyebrows arching up his forehead lightheartedly. “But he’s _our_ pain in the ass.” 

Daniel frowned up at his commanding officer. “Takes one to know one,” Daniel grumbled under his breath. 

“I’m just sayin’,” Jack declared innocently. 

Esme smiled at Daniel. “You will always be welcome here, Daniel Jackson.” 

Teal’c dialed home, punched in the IDC code, and moments later Daniel was wheeled through the event horizon for the very long but very fast journey home. 

* * *

_EPILOGUE_

**_Two Weeks Later_**  

The taxi dropped Daniel off at the storage facility around ten in the evening. He paid his fare and punched in the access code to the main gate, hands full of shopping bags. When the gate rolled open, he strode purposefully to his unit in the interior of the facility, setting his burdens down while he opened the lock on the roll-up door. He flipped on the light switch and carried the bags inside, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of the elegant motorcycle that had been his partner in crime-fighting until recently. 

Stepping inside, he lowered the door and went through his purchases, taking stock of the new wardrobe neatly foldedinside. There were casual and dress clothes, sweats for workouts and the appropriate footwear for each. He tried to compact the items as small as possible and figure out a way to strap them to the Ducati, but there was just too much there to carry on the bike. He’d have to make more than one trip, or take another taxi back to the base to get his purchases home. 

 _Back to the base,_ he amended. Earlier in the day he’d gone house hunting, checking out a little two-bedroom furnished bungalow close to the base. Tomorrow he planned to look at a few more places because he didn’t want to live on the base anymore.

He wanted a home of his own, somewhere away from work where he could just be Daniel rather than Doctor Jackson; maybe even develop a social life. 

His gaze shifted back to the Ducati, and he smiled. He liked riding the bike, the freedom he felt with the wind whipping at his skin. Daniel decided he _didn’t_ want to sell it or give it away. He needed transportation to and from the base anyway, and it was economical to drive. He’d have to get Sam to help him reattach the Ducati insignia since he didn’t want people mistaking him for his ninja alter-ego, who had thankfully retired, much to the chagrin of the local media.  

He squatted down behind it and peeled the tape off the license plate that had disguised the number and tossed it away.

There was no need to hide anymore. 

Daniel reached for the helmet and strapped it on, then rolled up the door and pushed the Ducati outside. Minutes later he was cruising the streets of Colorado Springs, no particular destination in mind, just enjoying himself on the sleek machine.

Eventually he found himself in a familiar neighborhood, and thought he’d stop by Jack’s place for a chat. 

Passing a grocery store, he noticed a familiar black Ford F-350 with a Cheyenne Mountain parking sticker on the window, and pulled the Ducati into the lot.

Daniel assumed Jack was inside the store buying groceries and would be out soon. He parked the bike and took off the helmet while he waited, looking up at the stars and thinking about his recent adventure through the Stargate. 

He felt the scrutiny before he noticed anyone watching him.

Turning his head, he stared right into the eyes of a shabby looking young man with long, dirty blond hair skulking among the parked cars.

Instantly, Daniel was sure of the man’s intent: he was planning to burglarize some of the vehicles.  

Daniel got off the bike and stood very still, staring the thief down.

“I know what you want to do here,” he called in the still night air. “I’m giving you the chance to leave with no trouble.” 

The stranger eyed him uncertainly, gaze dropping down to take in Daniel’s black sleeveless T-shirt and jeans, then shifting to the all-black motorcycle, stripped of insignia, an empty sword scabbard mounted on the right side beneath the seat. 

“You’re him, aren’t you?” the guy called back. “You’re the ninja.” 

Cocking his head, Daniel crossed his arms over his chest.

When he spoke, his voice was low and dark with warning.

“Do you really want to take the chance it _is_ me?” 

The thief’s eyes narrowed, looking Daniel up and down, assessing. He eyed Daniel’s glasses, the muscles showing beneath his T-shirt sleeves, and the wide stance of his strong legs.

Finally, the hood shrugged, sauntered over to his car and got the hell outta Dodge. 

Daniel kept his eyes on the guy until he was out of sight, then shook his head, grinning.

Obviously the Springs still needed a ninja. Too bad he was permanently retired..

But something in Daniel’s attitude about himself _had_ changed. He knew in the future he would be bolder, more aware, more willing to get involved, no longer the man who kept his head down and avoided meeting strangers’ eyes or looked the other way at the sound of a scuffle.

It would have to be enough. He’d keep his eyes open, and he’d call the police if he happened upon another crime in progress. He’d vowed to himself and promised Jack to never again put himself in harm’s way unless there was no other choice.

He took enough chances at work, and saving the all had to be more important than saving the one or the few. 

“Tell me I didn’t just see what I just saw,” called an all too familiar, thoroughly irritated voice from the end of the row of cars.

Jack stood there with two large bags of groceries in his arms, frowning mightily. 

 _Busted._  

His head whipped around guiltily. “Uh, that guy was looking for a car to burgle,” Daniel explained, pointing toward the street. “Did you want me to just let him get into your truck?” 

Jack strode up to his Ford and set the bags into the back. He walked across to the next row of parking spaces to where Daniel waited, arms wrapped gently around his ribs, butt leaning against the Ducati’s leather seat.

O’Neill shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans looked him up and down. “I thought we’d agreed on _retirement_.” 

As always, when in a public place, Jack was careful with his words. 

“We did,” Daniel assured him, nodding, “but I’m still a citizen. I can look out for my fellow man if I stumble onto a crime in progress.” He grinned. “I just can’t beat them to the punch anymore.” 

“You’re sure? No hangover intuition?” 

“Nope. I’m just me. Same old Daniel you’ve always known.” 

Jack shook his head. “No. You’re _not_ , Daniel.” His eyes were assessing, measuring. “You’re a far different man than the one I met in the mountain eight years ago. That guy I didn’t trust at my back. This one I do.” 

Daniel smiled.

For a moment, neither one spoke, the easy familiarity of their early years completely restored between them. He stepped away from the seat, took the helmet in hand and grinned even wider. “So, you wanna take her for a spin?” He held the helmet out to his friend, fully aware that Jack had a license to drive motorcycles as well as standard motor vehicles. 

“Sweet!” Jack chirped, snatching the helmet and throwing a long leg over the seat. He tossed his truck keys to Daniel with a rakish grin. “Take my groceries home and I’ll meetcha there... in an hour or two.” 

Walking toward the F-350, Daniel called over his shoulder. “Put some gas in it, willya? She likes the good stuff.”  

He didn’t wait to hear Jack carp over the nearly empty tank, just chuckled to himself and drove to the nearest gas station and then on to Jack’s place. He used his key to open the door, carried the groceries inside and started putting them away.

Daniel made himself at home, wandering around the living room, perusing Jack’s collection of medals and family pictures. 

The photo of himself as a child with his parents caught his eye and he went to it, picking it up and remembering that day it had been taken, in rural Italy at a dig.

It touched him that Jack had kept the photo after his ascension. His friend had tried to give it back once Daniel returned, but he wasn’t ready for personal things that had so much pain behind them.

That was also why he’d left that photo of Sha’re in Teal’c’s room, where it wouldn’t be a constant reminder of what he’d lost and how he’d failed those he had loved so deeply. 

Now, he thought, he just might be ready to let the past back in, with all its pain and joy. He was ready to start living again, to take his place in his world as a new man. It was time to start over, and he was already making the first tentative steps toward that destination. 

“Holy shit! That mother can _mooooove!”_ Jack shouted as he burst through the front door. He stomped into the living room, hair sticking up all over, face pink from the wind, mouth stretched into the widest smile Daniel had ever seen on him. “God, Danny, you can _not_ get rid of that thing! Unless you give it to me.” 

“I’m glad you like it, Jack, because I’m keeping it. I’m kinda fond of it, too.” He grinned back. “She’s hot, isn’t she?” 

“Can I borrow her sometimes? Cause I just _know_ you’ll neglect it and every now and then, they need to be ridden flat out, roaring at the road.” Jack’s eyes were glowing with excitement. He was pacing, too wired to stand still. 

“Sometimes,” Daniel promised, “but you _have_ to wear the helmet, and I can tell by your hair that you didn’t.” 

“Okay, I confess.” Another huge grin split Jack’s face. “But it was _sweeeeet!”_ Jack’s voice went into a high-pitched screech of enthusiasm on that last word, his body doing an excited little twisting dance, yanking his cocked fist into his side.  

He straightened up, suddenly totally casual and relaxed. “So, what’s for dinner?” 

“You borrow my bike and expect me to make you _dinner?_ No way. Putting your groceries away was enough. You cook.” 

“I’ll order out.” 

Jack pulled out his cell phone. 

“Jack, you just bought _groceries_ ,” Daniel argued. “Use what you bought. Don’t be wasteful.” 

“Yeah, Joey, this is Colonel O’Neill. I’d like my regular pizza but add a medium Hawaiian. I’ve got company tonight.”

Jack glanced at Daniel. “Yeah, it has been a while since my buddy was here, but he’s back and we’re celebrating. _Grazi,_ _paisan.”_

He flipped his cell phone shut and shoved it into his pants pocket. “Wanna beer?” 

“Got any wine open?” 

“No, but grab a bottle. You can stay in the spare room tonight.” 

Daniel looked at the picture still in his hands. “Jack, I think I’m ready to have this back now, if you don’t mind. And I’ll be needing help to move to a new place soon. Maybe a house, this time. A real home of my own, with a yard and everything.” 

Jack didn’t say anything, just wandered up beside him as he stood by the fireplace.

“I kept some of your other stuff, too,” he admitted quietly. “Things I couldn’t decide what to do with. Like all those swords you used to have on the walls of your loft.”

He turned to regard his younger friend, his face composed, giving nothing away. “You _really_ know how to use those things, don’t you?” 

Daniel turned to look into Jack’s eyes. “The basic principles of knife fighting apply to a sword as well. The longer blade just increases your reach.” He shrugged. “You know what a history buff I am, Jack. I know the rules of the Hounds and Jackals game you gave to the Denver museum. I taught myself how to play the sitar that used to hang on my wall, read every book in my libraries at home and in my office… and, yes, I learned the sword fighting methods of every culture represented by those weapons in my loft. It’s part of my nature.” 

“I know.” Jack’s eyes were filled with admiration and concern. “Sometimes your nature makes me worry about you. I mean, I _know_ you can take care of yourself. _Now.”_ A lazy smile crossed his face and his eyes twinkled. “It’s the dumb shit who’s stupid enough to try to take you on that oughtta worry me. For cryin’ out loud, Daniel, you almost killed a gargoyle!” 

“It killed _me,_ actually.” 

“Only for a little while.” 

Daniel chuckled and shook his head.

The smile faded as a memory lit up his mind, and he closed his eyes, tipping his head back, letting it fill him up inside.

When he spoke, his voice was low and soft. “I did some research while I was healing, Jack, and I found this passage in the Bible, from the book of Daniel. _‘As I was standing on the bank of the great river… I looked up and there before me was a man dressed in linen, with a belt of the finest gold around his waist. His body was like chrysolite, his face like lightning, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms and legs like the gleam of burnished bronze, and his voice like the sound of a multitude. I, Daniel, was the only one who saw the vision; the men with me did not see it, but such terror overwhelmed them that they fled and hid themselves. So I was left alone, gazing at this great vision; I had no strength left, my face turned deathly pale and I was helpless.’_ ”

He opened his eyes and strolled away a few steps, still thinking. 

“I get the feelin’ you’re trying to tell me something.” Jack turned around and leaned against the mantel, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets. 

“Did Esme tell you the source of those recordings they showed us?” Daniel lowered his head and strolled into the kitchen with his friend behind him. 

“I didn’t ask.” Jack shrugged, then opened the refrigerator and snagged a beer. “Not much interested in the technical stuff. You know me.” 

Nodding, Daniel opened up the wine cabinet, selected a bottle and took it to the kitchen counter.

“They have devices for memory retrieval on Rouen. Those were _memories_ we were watching, Jack. Memories of the Guardians, seen through their eyes.” 

Jack opened the beer, wiped the top of the bottle in his clenched fist and put it to his lips while he thought about that announcement.  

“I’m still amazed at some of the stuff you did during that fight, Daniel. You’d make a helluva hockey player.”  

He took another sip and leaned against the counter next to where Daniel was unwrapping the neck of the bottle of Merlot.

“When they showed us the playback… you remember how you looked? All glowy and bright?” 

Daniel nodded, reaching into the silverware drawer for the corkscrew. “Yeah.” 

“That’s what we saw when you ascended.” Jack’s voice was suddenly deeper, softer. “Carter, Teal’c and me… we don’t look like that. Not so bright and shiny. Not so pure.” 

Laying the corkscrew on the counter, Daniel turned to face his friend. “I’m not pure, Jack. I’ve got my share of faults and darkness that I deal with, just like you do.” 

“Maybe, but you’re much closer to…” Jack hesitated, steeled himself, and plunged onward. “…to what _they_ are than the rest of us.” 

Daniel cocked his head, leaning on the counter with one hand.

There was something about that look that Jack had given him, the way he’d said it that touched off a spark in Daniel’s mind.

“What did you see in the arena, Jack?” he asked quietly. 

“My best friend kickin’ gargoyle ass,” he shot back, looking away to take another sip of beer. He thoughtfully studied the bottle in his hand and started digging at the label with his fingernail. “And getting his ass _kicked_.”

He seemed to be avoiding something, trying not to answer Daniel’s question but to pacify him. 

“What did you _see,_ Jack?” 

O’Neill stepped away from the counter and wandered back into the living room. He stood in front of the sofa with his back to his guest, bottle braced against his hip, facing the big windows that reflected his own image back against the darkened yard.

He eyed Daniel’s reflection behind and a little beside him in the window, like a ghostly apparition standing out in the yard. “You saw ‘em, didn’t you? I mean, what they _really_ looked like, right?” 

Daniel nodded, warmed by the memory. “Yes, I did. Did you?” 

Jack shook his head, returning his gaze to his darkened yard. “No... but I heard their song when your heart stopped beating.” 

“And you knew what they were then?” 

The older man’s chin lifted as he swallowed hard. He hesitated, his voice rough and raw when he spoke. _“Oh,_ yeah. There could only be _one_ explanation for a sound like that, Daniel. I used to hear priests talk about it in church, but I never thought I’d ever hear it and still be drawing breath.” 

Daniel came up beside him, gently laying his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “What were they, Jack? I need to hear you say it, so I know you _know.”_  

Jack O’Neill tipped his head back, remembering that sound in the arena.

A trembling smile toyed at the corners of his mouth.

“I think that… maybe… they might have been… _angels_ , Danny. Mourning the loss of one of their own.” He met his friend’s gaze, steady and clear. “Everybody there got that but the Watch Commander. She couldn’t see what was right in front of her. The rest of us… yeah. We got it. We _know.”_  

Squeezing Jack’s shoulder slightly, Daniel moved away, heading for the door. “I’m _not_ an angel, Jack. I never was.” 

“Daniel.”  

He turned around to see Jack facing him, eyes full of respect and hope and friendship. “You _will_ be, one day. Let’s just not make it real soon, okay?” Jack said gently. 

The younger man studied his friend and saw, for the flash of an instant, a brilliant white light shining in his eyes in the shape of Jack O’Neill, unsure if it was a memory of the man in the storage cubicle as Daniel had seen him then, or something left over by the _illuminatus_ , some hidden ability that might give him a little more insight into others around him.

He’d wait and see. If the visual disturbance lingered, he’d be sure to tell his friends in case they needed to make another trip back to Rouen.

Something told him that was all gone… but the memories he carried now were priceless. 

Daniel smiled and stuck his hand in his back pocket, reaching for his wallet to pay the pizza delivery man coming up the front walk toward the house.

He turned away, a feeling of certainty filling him up with warmth and joy.

“You will be, too, Jack. Trust me on that.” 

FIN **  
**

**Dr. Daniel Jackson**  
Abydos  
February 1996   


**Dr. Daniel Jackson**  
P3X-774 Nox Homeworld  
12 September 1997   


**Dr. Daniel Jackson**  
Aboard Goa'uld Hatak over Earth  
26 June 1998   


**Dr. Daniel Jackson**  
P3R-636  
24 July 1998   


**Dr. Daniel Jackson**  
SGC Base  
26 January 2001   


**Dr. Daniel Jackson**  
SGC Base  
10 May 2002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this story was inspired by the Disney Gargoyles animated series. That was also an amazing tale beautifully told.
> 
> Interesting note: Grgoyles (house, roof and door guardians) are present in some form in every culture on the planet, as are dragons, fairies, unicorns and a host of other mythological creatures. No matter how far separated our Earthly cultures are, they all share certain beliefs and imagery… which makes one wonder if they were connected in some way, or if the source of the legends was real and present all over the globe. I think Doctor Jackson had all that figured out. *beam*
> 
> Biblical quotation from Old Testament, Book of Daniel 10:4-8, NIV.
> 
> Seraphim is a Hebrew term for "burning ones." This title probably refers neither to fire as we know it nor to the consuming judgment. Rather, it expresses the passionate devotion of a particular order of angelic beings to praise and proclaim all creation. God's holiness and majesty.
> 
> http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/13725b.htm
> 
> On each side of the throne stood mysterious guardians, each supplied with six wings: two to bear them up, two veiling their faces, and two covering their feet, now naked, as became priestly service in the presence of the Almighty.
> 
> Although described under a human form, with faces, hands, and feet (Is., vi, 2, 6), they are undoubtedly existing spiritual beings corresponding to their name, and not mere symbolic representations as is often asserted by advanced Protestant scholars. Their number is considerable, as they appear around the heavenly throne in a double choir and the volume of their chorus is such that the sound shakes the foundations of the palace.
> 
> Their name too, seraphim, distinguishes them from the cherubim, although it is confessedly difficult to obtain from the single Scriptural passage wherein these beings are mentioned a clear conception of its precise meaning. The name is oftentimes derived from the Hebrew verb saraph ("to consume with fire"), and this etymology is very probable because of its accordance with Isa., vi, 6, where one of the seraphim is represented as carrying celestial fire from the altar to purify the Prophet's lips. Many scholars prefer to derive it from the Hebrew noun saraph, "a fiery and flying serpent", spoken of in Num., xxi, 6; Isa., xiv, 29, and the brazen image of which stood in the Temple in Isaias's time (IV Kings, xviii, 4); but it is plain that no trace of such serpentine form appears in Isaias's description of the seraphim. Still less probable are the views propounded of late by certain critics and connecting the Biblical seraphim with the Babylonian Sharrapu, a name for Nergal, the fire-god, or with the Egyptian griffins (séréf) which are placed at Beni-Hassan as guardians of graves.


End file.
